


Catalyst

by FiveHand



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Edward/Female oc is NOT his sister, F/M, Ishvalan war heavy, Love Triangle, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overprotective Edward, Parental Riza Hawkeye, Parental Roy Mustang, Parental!Roy, Psychological Drama, little sister - Freeform, parental!riza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-03-21 08:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveHand/pseuds/FiveHand
Summary: "I'm going to die, brother." The twiggy fingers within his grasp clung tighter with her heaving breath. There, upon the hospital bed - with monitors beeping and the soft sound of a heart rate slowing to soothe him through hot tears and the inability to speak without his voice hiccuping and lower lip trembling - she laid, eyes barely strong enough to stay open.”No you’re not Mara. I won't let you, ” Edward told her firmly, bringing her hand to his heart and leaning forward, brows knitted and cheeks sodden. "I won't let you die, you hear me?""I'll save you."





	1. The Day of the Illness

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is a little outside my comfort zones but in honour of the new Fullmetal Alchemist live-action (which I have yet to see) here is my story. Enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [10/11/18]  
> So, I edited and rearranged some chapters this week to make it all flow better - Just a heads up for those of you who may take a look and think "Wait... didn't this chapter start at a different point?" Don't worry, I haven't added things in, just moved them about so it doesn't need to be re-read. 
> 
> Thanks for your understanding,   
> \- E

_"Are you willing to sacrifice a part of yourself_

_...To save the soul of your foolish brother?"_

A crackly laugh echoed throughout the space, although it made no sense... there were no walls, no ceiling, floors. There was only white space devoid of anyone or anything - except for one person, and the demonic being in front of her. She was but a small child. Her thin, fluffy locks tied into a small growing plait - the exact shade of honey, a dark gold and the darkest strands almost brown. Her eyes were wide, yellow irises, reminiscent of two gleaming cut topazes, completely uncovered by her receded eyelids. Shaking ever so slightly. Her fists tensed.

The being in front of her... It had taken the exact form of herself - except, it had no details, a completely blank slate. It was just a pitch-black void lining a being which appeared to be lacking any details - yet held a human form of a six-year-old girl. In fact, the only noticeable detail the thing had was an inhumane set of teeth, each tooth like a singular pearl. However, unlike a pearl, these teeth were not beautiful... They were intimidating, scary, and huge. The girl felt as if she got too close, the thing would eat her whole. Its smile defied all innocence, it was just... The truth

The little girl, garbed in a hand-sewn pink frock, had no doubts in her mind - would she sacrifice a piece of herself to rescue the soul of Alphonse? Yes. She didn't think twice about it, for without her mother in her life, and with her father still gone, she couldn't lose another person. He was her big brother, and she loved him very much. Alphonse and her eldest brother, Edward, had taken such good care of her. They may not have been the best make-shift parents, but they were great brothers, and they always put her first - even when she wanted them to care more about themselves sometimes. Only one answer came to mind, and that was the answer she told the black mass of darkness in front of her, only a few paces of space between herself and it. Confidently, but mainly confidence forged out of fear and love, she announced her decision;

"Take whatever you want! I-I don't big brother Al to go away too!" she cried almost furiously, forcing back the scared and frightened tears mounting her dainty blonde eyelashes. This made the thing's wide unending grin became larger, more malicious. It tittered with sadistic glee.

 

 

_"Risking one's healthy life for another's fleeting soul...? I'll never understand you human beings._

_...Very well, for a price, you may keep your brother's soul."_

 

 

It raised it's fuzzy, colourless hand. The smile on its face seemed to be unable to get any bigger than its already unnatural size. It was the grin of a Cheshire cat - unnerving and wicked. Creaking. Loud squealing creaks sounded from behind, the temped air had suddenly streaked a bitter and unforgiving cold. Slowly, her head moved - panicked eyes jittery. Her delicate hair was pulled away from her head, caught in a rough, inwards breeze and fluttered like a silk scarf in the wind. She was not prepared. Her small, fragile mind wasn't prepared for any of this; waking up in the middle of the night to hear her elder brothers screaming in the most horrific way. Jumping out of bed to see what was going on only to have her eldest brother, Edward, desperately warn her to stay away; and for the black tendrils of her brothers' sin to pull her into the eye of truth, embedded into the splintering wooden floor.

Almost three times her size in width, and more than triple that size in height, two large doors stood tall, slightly ajar. The doors were blank and make out of a material which the little girl hadn't ever seen before. It looked like wood but felt far too cold and smooth with the colour of steel. lightly skimming the edges of the door, a silver trim of intricate designs far too complicated to be man-made, and small little roses decorated each door identically.

The doors which stood taller than the child's line of sight faded off into a frightening nothingness as her head craned upwards, small golden eyes twinkling through glassy corneas. Her chubby, stout fingers barely feathering the surface of the doors which seemed to hold no limit to existence.

"What is behind this door?"

She opened her mouth to say yet found the words died in her throat, shot down by the sight of limbs, tendrils of void seeping through the slight gap, as would insects scuttling from a flame. The black limbs branched off into individual abstract hands, and they all reached for her.

The doors swung open. The girl jumped back. The hands crawled out for her, she could not escape their grasp. No matter how fast she ran, her plump little legs could carry her no further than the vacuum from the mysterious doorway would allow her to escape. Like a dog on a leash, she was dragged back by a collar of black mass wrapping around her neck, her arms, pulling at her face and honey-golden hair.

All her screams seemed to fall into the abyss of white nonexistence around her. The thing held it's cruel grin. She herself could not hear the wailing her lungs provided yet it could - and it loved them.

 

"Night-terrors again, brother?"

Panicked eyes blinked in surprise. Edward ran a hand through his hair and sighed, seeing his metal brother peak his geometric head through the sliding door of their train car. That gloved hand fell back to comfort the smaller one of the child whose head rested in his lap.

"Yeah." Was all he could say - watching her thrash about, coughing and wheezing, hot tears streaming from her eyes. She would not awake. She had to suffer through it.

"I brought her some snacks from the diner car, seeing as though she didn't eat anything for dinner." Said Alphonse, almost hushed despite knowing that the ten-year-old girl would not awake (despite their best efforts). A faint red glow, in place of his long-forgotten eyes, shone warmly in the holes of his helm and Edward's dampened yellow eyes fell to the girl once more - patting some matted locks out of her face, streaked with sweat.

"If she didn't eat dinner, it's not likely she's going to feel well enough for - " his eyes glanced over at the contents in his brother's hands. " bread and water... never mind." He apologized quietly, and continued to watch the child like a hawk would it's prey, yet a held breath and furrowed brows shone a clear worry for the girl. His gaze flickered to the robotic armour aside him and he sighed.

"It's been how many years?" Edward asked, face falling. His whole body slouching. Even his pale blonde hair seemed to fall flat with depression.

"Four, brother," Alphonse replied softly, voice echoing as if his words were ricocheting inside his armoured body - and they most likely were.

"And I still can't fix her." Edward was suddenly hushed as the girl cried out once more. She cried out for her big brother Edward to save her from the monsters who were chasing her. She cried out for her mother who was already sadly dead. With tears beginning to fall from her tightly clenched eyes, she called out for Alphonse

The eldest brother clenched his jaw and took a deep breath with his eyes calmly shut. Another episode passed and her body stilled. It was almost strange to see her so serene after a nightmare like that - at peace in sleep yet it was a privilege every child should be endowed.

"I still cannot fix the mistake I made after four whole years, Alphonse." He said glumly, fingers trailing through the long hair, the same colour of his own, trying to comfort the sleeping child.

"I'm making Amara suffer meaninglessly."

"Brother. You're not making her suffer for no reason. She understands that we just need to find the philosopher's stone." Alphonse pleaded with a panicked tone in his metallic voice.

"I'm not? How am I not? Mara is ten. Ten Al." His head snapped up, eyes staring sorrowfully into the red glow of his brother's. Just another mistake of Edward's - those glowing red eyes.

"How would she understand anything? She's too innocent to understand that her brother is an idiot. I did something so stupid that it could have killed us all! She doesn't even understand that it's okay to blame me for what happened."

Alphonse was silenced after a small squeak of shock. After dinner, Edward had been entirely shaken and Alphonse could not sway him from his self-berating mood. Amara had been growing paler by the day, as much as his elder brother would deny it, she was as white as milk. Her lips blue and eyes shallow. The poor thing couldn't keep down her meal - and that was becoming ever more frequent a problem. Over half the food the child consumed had been expelled from her body in a most violent rejection.

But only recently had she been vomiting blood. And so, Alphonse had convinced his brother that it was no longer safe (if it ever were safe to drag along a young child on military business) to bring Amara around with them. Alphonse could see that Amara needed serious medical help - help that doctors were unable to give. Yet doctors would be able to give her pain relief and ease her in her growing ill health. The boy shouldn't dare speak of that point to his brother, however, the elder brother was clinging onto their younger sister for dear life. He denies ever seeing such symptoms, and a large-scale argument between the brothers over the welfare of their young sister had once caused a silence between the brothers lasting longer than a fortnight.

No, Amara stayed with Edward. Amara was Edward's diving force - save for Alphonse. However, there was, of course, the urgency of Amara's condition - which made Edward so determined to find the philosopher's stone before it was too late.

"I just got off the phone with Colonel Mustang, brother - before going to the food car," Alphonse said - anxious words cutting through the thick, sober silence. "He says that he doesn't want you to worry about bills and to just keep your mind focused on work."

If the boy had eyebrows, they would have been raised swiftly as his hands shot up to shake off his brother's bristled look.

"No, no, no! He was being very generous, brother! He said that Amara's medical bills will be paid by the government, so you don't have to worry about it!"

As if Edward's shoulders were held up by strings, which had promptly been cut, they fell from tense to lax in the blink of an eye.

"Nice of him, I guess." Edward sighed out numbly, pulling his red fleece cloak back over Amara's shoulders as a pseudo blanket. Inhaling, (despite not having lungs, instead it was a matter of human habit) Alphonse stood up quietly. His silver joints clanged against each other as he did so.

"Edward." He said, red glowing eyes like a warm candlelight, peering down upon his brother, illuminating his sandy skin.

Edward hummed in recognition, however, he did not stray his attention from the girl's sleeping form in fear of her having another nightmare - or another fit - or the need to vomit. "Brother. Go take a break. Please, you've been here for hours." He pleaded

"Mara needs me, Al, I can't," Edward mumbled briefly.

"I can look after her Ed. I am her brother too you know" There was a short silence. The brother's eyes meeting with a challenge. Edward was tired, dark bags dropping from his dry eyes boldly proved that. Alphonse had no need for sleep - a soul has no need for such a human habit. Through drooping eyes fighting to stay open, the fifteen-year-old teenager sighed and gently moved Amara's red round face off of his lap.

"Fine... Thanks, Al." He earnestly shone his brother a quick smile, undoing the string holding together his thin messy braid. Slowly, with a yawn and a stretch of the arm, he headed for the doorway - sparing the blonde child on the train car bench a look of soft eyes and sad brows, smiling motherly yet frowning oh so subtly.

Then, ducking out the doorway, Ed closed the door, the grainy sound of wood sliding against wood quietly hissing through the room as a snake would. If it weren't for the flickering candle on the small table adjacent to the auburn bench, the whole room would have fallen into an all hiding darkness - and Alphonse's large body, the height of the train car itself, was braced by the pink glow of the wax and wick.

 

 

"You're awake, aren't you?" He softly asked, leather palmed hand, like a feather, stroked her cheek. The fallen corner's of the child's blue mouth had slowly turned upright. A croaky giggle escaped her lips and golden little lashes parted as two gem-like irises came out to see.

"...Yes, Al." Pale and weak, with a heaving cough, she sat up slowly as her breaths heaved.

"Mara... I'm sorry if you want to sleep, you can go back if you want to." Alphonse told her with a high squeaky voice.

She giggled again, and held onto the arm plates, looking up at the face (or helmet) of the giant body of historic armour.

"I'm not tired brother!" She grinned lopsidedly, tapping her bitten nails on the metal of his arm. "I woke up just now but I like it when Ed looks after me. He acts like a mother."

"I guess he does." The silver armour laughed with an image of his short elder brother as a mother-figure pasted in his thoughts. "Although I doubt you could live through a milk-free diet with mother-Edward doing the cooking."

Quietly yawning, hand over mouth, Amara felt her thin hair flop into her face. She asked the time, mid-yawn, noting the pitch black sky dotted with stars of past souls in the sky. Ten past two in the morning, it explained the exhaustion in her eldest brother's voice - she supposed. She quietly thanked Alphonse as he shuffled her half a roll of bread, crusty and soft in the middle. It smelled fresh, she thought with the food pressed to her lips - and she prayed that she could keep it down, now feeling less nauseous despite the bitter taste of bile still fresh on her tongue.

Amara was accustomed to that foul taste.

Eyes glowing bright and warm, Alphonse felt his soul leap in glee seeing a little colour return to the round face of the ten-year-old child. Sipping at the canister of water her brother had so kindly brought for her, she sent him a closed-eyed smile.

"We'll be arriving in central by sunrise - perhaps you should try to get a little more sleep, sister." Said he, tender as ever.

"But Al, I'm not tired..." She moaned, rolling her eyes and head back with a huff, a chunk of bread left in her hand.

"No buts," Sternly, he held a bolted finger up "Its gone past two in the morning! Its way too late for you to be up, you need your strength!" and laughed as she replied with a simple 'Yes sir...'.

 

_"I don't care how much it is. I'm a state alchemist and I can pay for it."_

_…_

_"No, It's my business, my fault, and my little sister. I can pay for her meds, Mustang.”_

_…_

_"Listen to me-! No, I am not being childish!”_

_…_

_"Look asshole, I don't need your charity - Yes it **is** charity!"_

_…_

_"Fine, but send me a bill after we got our bodies back - I don't care if it will stack taller than me!"_

 

 

Alphonse could hear Edward bellowing from the other car - on the phone to central. He really didn't enjoy the idea of owing Roy Mustang, and he abhorred the thought of a man such as he took pity on him. Alphonse sighed - he honestly thought it was most kind of Roy to offer to pay for Amara's medical bills. Alphonse knew full well how ludicrously expensive the medicine Amara required just to stay afloat for another day - but he didn't mind in the least; who could put a price on a human's life?

Who could put a price on dear Amara's life?

Amara had fallen asleep swiftly. She seemed to sit better with food staying put in her stomach, and a lively rose to tint her face. Her breathing, though loud and dry, was calm and serene. Her lips had gone to a purple rather than the deep blue they presented previously. Amara... She had been worse off than usual recently. Doctors everywhere, the news they all brought with the same heavy-hearted look on their faces was the same news that Edward refused to believe - and the same news that Alphonse was trying to ease Amara through. Edward wanted her to hang on as long as possible as he fruitlessly searched and searched for an answer. A way to fix his little sister's broken body.

Alphonse just wanted to stop. He wanted to stop dragging Amara across the country and just enjoy the few months she had left. This. This was the argument which caused Edward and Alphonse to hold each other with a cold shoulder - ice in the golden eyes of the elder brother, and dismay in the ruby glow of the younger's. How could he? How dare Alphonse even suggest to just let their little sister die? Alphonse on the other hand just wanted to stop her from having to deal with the stress of being so well known - 'the Elric siblings'. Just being the child sister of the Fullmetal Alchemist had some workers sending her foul looks. She had to deal with the stress of moving on every day - never a bed to call her own. Sleeping in a train carriage was very common for her and Alphonse couldn't bear it if he allowed Edward to drag her on and on with no respite - dragging her imminent departure from this world onwards faster than ever.

'I just want you to be happy, Mara.'

His hand gently cupped the side of her face - he wished he could feel her face - truly. He wished to feel the warmth of her, to know that she was truly alive. His thumb, pad leather, stroked her cheek - remorse twinkling in his eyes. Silently - as the rain began battering at the roof of the train like the footsteps of one thousand tiny soldiers - he apologized. He apologized. Oh, the number of apologies he mumbled that damp summer morn was countless.

"I'm so sorry you got dragged into it."


	2. The Day of the Colonel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [10/11/18]  
> This chapter may seem short but I feel that it would be better to read this as a scene on its own rather than a skipped bit of text in a 3,000-word chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> -E

It was light out when Edward finally got to stretch his scrawny legs. The sun was low and daylight little - but the air, humid as it was, held warmth. The train's windows had been dotted with diamonds, looking as though a small fairy had come by in the night to delicately and precariously place each water drop upon the window glass. He patted down his black trousers, caught by the sun's white light. A small breeze, slightly warm, tickled the tips of his curtains of hair either side of his head and stroked the stray bunch of gold determined to stay upright against the lore of his drooping locks.

Busied, he called out for his siblings while fumbling his fingers through three locks of hair, plaiting it neatly and straightening his crimson cloak. A twinkle in his eye gleamed against the summer's rays and his golden irises thrived. The trees standing tall from the other side of the tracks swayed gently against the mellow sun - pastel green leaves creating a slight rustling white noise as they knocked one-another.

"Coming brother!" Edward heard from the carriage - eying the carpark with a black hair-tie between his lips. 'She looks better today' He thought with the corners of his mouth upturned, adjusting his white gloves to sit properly on his right hand so the fabric wouldn't get caught in the joints of his prosthetic.

Off came Amara. Practically skipping down the ramp, she hopped from the stairs and grinned to her brother, hands behind her back. Her cheeks were rosy and face sincere but also -

Her hair was a mess. In all honesty - he wouldn't be surprised to find a bird making a nest out of it.

“Mara. Look at your hair, did you stick your head out of the train window while it was running?" He laughed, pointing at the frizzy ball of blonde. "Come here, I'll do it." He said with a sheltering smile - a sigh soon following as he took the brush from her satchel on her side and began working through the cluster, her sitting on the sandy coloured step below his and complaining when he tugged too hard or when the brush itself refused to move any further.

"Did Ed do your hair again?" Was the first thing Alphonse said, swallowing some suitcases into his hollow body. Amara nodded and swiftly gave him a twirl to proudly show off her distinctly 'Ed' coiffure. The front half of her hair was shorter, so fell to be tucked behind her ears, whereas the longer parts of her hair, straight and thin, were braided equally into two plaits. They rested over the front of her shoulders and were tied up with Edward's spare hair ties (seeing as Amara's had a knack for going missing).

There was no denying it. Amara was Edward's little sister. Blonde hair. Wide, inquisitive golden eyes. Tanned-caramel skin with a glow. A soft circular jaw. Just like him, just like their father.

"You know, you really need to start doing that yourself," Edward added, admiring his handy work with a smug smirk.

"But I like it when you do it!" Amara interjected, putting away her brush and replacing it with a white bottle of medication. She shoved two of the dry pills into her cheek and continued talking.

"And I do do my own hair," She barked with arms crossed over her chest, a slight lisp caused by the objects in her mouth. "I did it just now, but it didn't turn out so good." Pouting, she held onto the ends of her plaits. Edward made the best plaits.

"C'mon. We've got to go meet that bastard, Mustang - he's got a mission for us." Edward said with a little irritation laced in unsubtly as he noticed a familiar black car parked not too far away.

 _'Us'_. Alphonse sent the boy a muted look, not replying. Just for a moment, before muttering: "Brother. Remember what we discussed."

Amara had drifted ahead absentmindedly, holding her arms out like a plane as she tried to balance herself, walking along a narrow, but not high, brick wall. The brothers freely spoke.

"Alphonse, I told you it will depend on the mission."

"No brother. We decided that Amara stays behind. Her health can't keep up with everything we do."

‘Al, she's fine. Look at her."

He did look at her. Edward saw her smiling, reflecting the suns warm glow. Dancing along the brick wall next to the curb in her cotton brown frock, white tights, and leather slip-on shoes. She was normal, she was fine. Alphonse saw her smiling and dancing along the wall as would anyone else - But he also saw her pretending not to hear them. He saw her causing a distraction for herself so she wouldn't have to listen to him and her brother talk about her as a liability or some sort of special case. He saw how sickly thin she was and the outline of the medicine bottle in her beige satchel bag.

"Brother," he started, seeing Amara approach Roy's car with excitement - running up to greet both the black-haired man with skin as pale as ice and eyes dark as night. Him, and his first lieutenant, Riza Hawkeye. A blonde woman with creamy skin, very solid in personality and stature. She looked down at Amara after getting out to greet the three siblings with her usually perfect posture and low sturdy shoulders like shelves. The woman smiled through long lashes and earthy brown eyes. Her Amestrian uniform, blue with gold details and a brown leather belt, was freshly pressed and clean. Her hair, tied up neatly and never a single stray hair to a fault.

"Good morning Amara, I hope you've been well." She said sincerely to the child spiritedly saluting her.

"Hello, Miss Riza!" She greeted in return, hopping into the back seat of the car.

"Morning, Roy." She said as she leant forward to the driver - also wearing the Amestrian uniform. He hummed in recognition and nodded his head in greeting.

"Mind if I tell your brothers to move their asses?" He asked her, eyes flicking back to her with a smirk. Edward and Alphonse were walking slowly before, then as their conversation grew deeper (Roy had assumed), their walk speed plummeted to that of a lowly sloth.

"Colonel." Riza side-eyed him from the passenger seat. She held her brows higher and tilted her head by just a fraction yet her whole face shone with a scolding dissatisfaction.

“Right. Right." He said, lifting his hands from the wheel to dismissively apologise. "Sorry. _Behinds_. Do you mind if I tell your brother's to move their _behinds_ , Amara?" He flicked his eyes over to Riza every time he placed emphasis on his words.

A car horn bellowed. Edward's skeleton leapt from his skin as he screamed in horror. It's deafening shriek knocked the oxygen from his lungs as a punch to the gut would. Alphonse's soul may have left his body as he cried out in surprise and suddenly - it was over and Roy rolled down his car window.

“Get your asses over here, we don't have all day."  He shouted as he stuck his head out, leaning his shoulder upon the threshold separating the inside of the car from the outside.

"You coulda killed me, you ass!" The short blonde said angrily and winded. He stomped over to the car like a toddler in a tantrum, left leg making small metallic clinks as he did so. Alphonse simply sighed finding a new enmity towards car horns.

 

 


	3. The Day of Lerwick's Daughter

Round face, full cheeks. Youth pouring from every essence on her being. Her skin was dark, a sepia shade in the light. She was smiling full-heartedly and her eyes were crinkled with joy. Thick white lashes standing out from her lids - hair, straightened and tied into pigtails, fell from under her ears. Her clothes should have been made from gold with such expensive materials. Her jumper was a pastel red, slightly oversized but looked warm and comfortable. Her light brown trousers were tailor-made, fitting perfectly and were a known brand - held up by a leather belt, a bronze buckle centred it. Her boots were made of fine leather, dark brown with black soles, and reached loosely up to her calves. In her ears, no lobes and small, she had small silver studs. In which, a red gem. Ruby - possibly. They matched the exact shade and appearance of her irises.

"She looks spoiled" Commented Edward with his bottom lip protruding, holding the picture up to his face. "How old is she here?" The girl, although much taller than Amara, appeared to be around her age. She had been sitting, studying. The boy could see her textbooks open and filled with notes, more books piled up - none had a spec of dust proving that she was probably a bookworm of sorts. Academic at the least.

"Nine."

"Nine?" Edward echoed in disbelief. Amara was shorter than this child, possibly a head or two - and the girl was younger than her? "There's no way she's Nine. Look at Amara, she's ten!" Edward protested, fully believing that Roy was pulling his automail leg.

"Well." Roy leant back in his office chair, smirking. "I guess she takes after her pipsqueak brother then, eh?"

Yelling, stomping and a large rant and a half, Edward was off. If Alphonse could, he'd be rolling his eyes as he held his brother's shoulders tight to stop him from throttling his superior. He was glad Amara was outside of the office, sitting on the floor colouring a piece of paper with some pencils from her old home. Completely unaware of, in Alphonse's opinion, Edward's embarrassing scene. Sometimes, honestly, the fifteen-year-old had the maturity of a child three times as young.

"Regardless of her age and height in the photograph, she's sixteen now," Roy said, standing from his sturdy chair and completely dismissing the eldest Elric. "Two years ago, she went missing of her own accord. We haven't been able to find a trace of her, but recently we think we may have." His eyes trailed to the window, staring off at the sky as his legs brought him closer to the light. A small black bird could be seen soaring through the oceans of water blue, flapping its wings as it drifted it's dark body of feathers far, far away. Riza's eyelids dropped slightly, jaw tensing.

"You do remember Isaac the Freezer's attack on central just a few weeks ago?" Edward let out a forced chuff.

“How could I forget? What about it?"

"Just days after," the man turned to face the brothers - back straight as a wall, arms crossed over his chest. His left eye just caught the warm glimmer sent from the sun as he continued onward with a slightly, and only just, lighter tone. "reports of an Ishvalan woman using alchemy to protect multiple people during assault flooded in. I've had citizens report on how she'd constructed walls around Rockshed Avenue - a large street towards the poorer area of central."

"I've been there myself." Holding her tight posture, Riza interjected with that calming voice. "The walls were gone by the time I'd arrived, yet all the citizens tell the same tale of the woman who saved their homes."

Blond curtains swayed with Edward as he leant forward, ankles crossing beneath his chair as his right foot prodded the floor. He had many queries. Was she a state alchemist?

She was not - Roy told him how she was simply a studious girl, with an Ex-state alchemist father. Edward asked if she had ever looked into human transmutation. The girl had done research into the philosopher's stone - but it was brief. With a hum, fringe of black needles framing Roy's slanted, hard eyes. The man then, with a ghost of a smile whimpering with nostalgia, went on to mention how he wouldn't have put it past her to have done research into human transmutation as well. Roy bats the ball of questions back to Edward - as if they were playing a game of table tennis.

Edward's eyes widened and Alphonse let out an acute gasp.

"Do... you think she can help us?" Alphonse gingerly added to the conversation, feeling like a kitten in a room full of lions.

"I'm not certain, but I haven't seen her in two years," He shrugged his shoulders as he turned from the light of the sky - blackness rimming his face as a silhouette. "so who knows what she can do."

“You know her personally?" Curiously, the blond asked with light brows raised.

"I do," He sighed and let his eyes drift back through the years. A cloud had aimlessly wandered in front of the sun and his eyes of total black could no longer see it's light, nor his face feel it's ever-present warmth. "her father fought alongside me during the Ishvalan war. We were close."

"Her father? Who's he?" Edward asked, tilting his head back with large eyes narrowed. 'I don't actually know her name, come to think of it'; He realised as he noted his superior's distant gaze.

"Lerwick. Her father's name is Richard Lerwick."

"Y-you mean, Brigadier General, Richard Lerwick? The guy who -"

"Yes. I mean him." Roy's tone dropped to one of ruing - Eyes barely open through tight-knitted brows, fingers ever so slightly clutching the white of the window-ledge. "But we cannot judge people on the actions of their father... Evelina Lerwick is the girl I want you to find." And with that, the conversation dropped to silence as a ginger tap on the door cut through the words of the colonel Roy Mustang. Their eyes, Roy's dim, Edward's round and confused, followed the sound of the gentle knocking and the doors opened slowly, painfully.

“B-brother." A pale face peeked through the door - raspy voice barely above a whisper. Edward jumped from his seat, and it would be a lie to say it wasn't literally. Hearing a hoarse cough, and squinted eyes full of hot pain as Amara clasped onto the doorknob for dear life with one hand, and her guts with the other, he was immediately at her side.  "Brother I- I don't feel well."

"I've got you, Mara."

 

_Alchemy is the art of deconstruction and reconstruction. No matter can be constructed from nothing, and no matter can be deconstructed into nothing either. Everything is created from a chemical reaction - as is everything destroyed. Even cooking a meal is done through chemical reactions. Alchemy utilises these chemical reactions - making the Alchemist the catalyst. The alchemist decides when the reaction will take place and with an alchemic matrix, speeds up the reaction without being involved in the reaction itself._

A page turn was the only thing to brace the silence of the room. Dimly lit by an old bronze oil lamp, stubby legs hung low from the old hazel desk chair. Engrossed in his father's book, a boy, no older than nine had not once looked up from the ancient text. The only reason he had at that moment, was to roll his eyes and to purse his thin, flaxen lips.

"Wow Amara, what a great artist you are!" His mother's kind, beautiful voice said. He could tell by the tone that she was sincere and incredibly impressed. _'Mum sounded the same when she saw our alchemy..._ ' He threw his eyes back to the paper, fair eyebrows lowering as he tried his absolute and undeniable best to ignore the scene happening outside the door to his father's study.

"Really mum?" A squeaky child (just out of her toddler years) asked loudly, mouth just able to form the syllables without sounding ill-spoken. "Because it's a present for you!"

Edward pushed his nose further into his paper. 'You're so childish, Ed!' He could hear Winry yelling down his ear canal, cheeks puffed and red with a wrench in hand. 'I can't believe you're actually jealous of your little sister! I'd give my right arm for mum and dad to give me a little brother or sister.'

Was he really being childish? After his dad left, it was just him, Alphonse and their mum. A month later, Edward comes home to his mum telling them that they're going to have a baby brother or sister - but she didn't seem happy. Not to say that she didn't want the baby - it was only recently that he realised that it was his father's fault for her sadness that day and the thought that her partner wasn't aware of their soon-coming child. After an eternity of waiting, and his mum being incredibly sick with a swollen stomach and a vulnerability to vomiting, she came home with a bundle in her arms.

The Rockbell's came to congratulate his mother and to see the baby. Winry was in awe and just wanted to hold the baby. Granny kept commenting on how the baby had Trisha's face, but her father's nose and good looks (which followed with laughter). More of his mother's friends came to visit, and her family too. Even Alphonse was all over the new baby.

Edward just didn't understand. It was just a baby. A thing that cries, poops and sleeps. It was annoying and what was worse, all his mum ever did was spend time with it. As soon as it cried his mum was by its side, feeding it, soothing it, playing with it. Alphonse was no better. He was constantly asking about how babies developed, how he was as a baby. He wouldn't leave the damned thing alone either.

'You should be nicer to your little sister, Edward.' His mother had gone as far as to scold the boy many times for being unnecessarily cold to the child. He remembered getting a time out for pushing her over when he was seven and being sent to his room a few weeks ago for ruining her drawings and using them in a transmutation (which, in his defence, really was an accident).

"Big brother Ed...?"

Edward growled as the room was flooded with light, a child half his height holding a piece of paper, looking into the room with all the curtains closed, and the only source of light; a rusty oil lamp.

“What do you want?" Said he, scorching glare set on his paper as he refused to look at her. Some would call it spite, he called it aggravation. "I'm busy, I don't have time to play your silly girly games."

"Big brother... it's..."

"What? What is it?" He raised his voice to the girl, closing his book with a slam. "What do you want?"

...

His eyes softened quickly

Drip.

Drop.

"It's just... big brother it's my birthday and- and I hoped that you would show me your alchemy..."

He forgot. It wasn't a surprise, he hadn't made a note of the birth, and pettiness had made it a goal to not care enough to try.  But to see the genuine hurt in those tear-sodden eyes - the same shape and colour as his own - made his throat tighten like a snake of shame was curling around his neck.

"It's just, your alchemy, it's really cool and I wanted to- to see it." His lips parted to stop her crying but he said nothing.

"Y-you never spend time with me, I don't understand what I've done to make you hate me but today I hoped that maybe..." Her glass eyes fell down in embarrassment, mumbling; "I'm sorry for being so stupid." and ran out of the room.

...Those words, they echoed in his head long after Amara had entirely forgotten about that encounter.

 

Surreal was the word to describe it. A huge fit, Amara convulsing on the floor after collapsing into her brother's arms in one second, unconscious and serene the next. There just was something wrong with that.

 

 

As the ten-year-old girl slept in a hospital bed, brother made of armour sitting by her on a stool two sizes too small, and her eldest brother halfway through the door to go to work, his eyes heavy with reminiscence, he looked down at his black boots and saw his own visage glaring back at him. He can't keep lying to himself.

"I'm sorry for being so stupid, Mara"

 


	4. The Day of the Return

Downtown central was as dirty as it comes. The smell of wet garbage was utterly putrid and took hours of being in the area to get used to. The alleys and even streets were lined with junk, piles of rubbish, even rotten food. A question as to why Edward's taxi driver took off so quickly was completely unnecessary.

Unlike most of central, the houses were short, three stories high at most, and were rather dilapidated. Even the very sky above seemed to treat this part of central unfavourably. Grey, lifeless - not a bird nor speck of sun to be seen. He could feel a draft's fingers brush softly against his face as he inhaled the musky air, and tried to hear himself think over the bustling sounds of car tires against a damp tarmac road - and people talking, eyeing up the new stranger who had wandered into their territory.

After a while of aimless walking, the Fullmetal Alchemist had come to find a small marketplace. The place was packed and Edward was almost thankful for his smaller frame which enabled him to seamlessly slip through the crowds of people. Independent shops were as frequent as the litter on the floor down this street, some sold meat, trinkets and small furnishings, the boy had even spotted a stall selling spices from Xing and other foreign countries.

"Hey, I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist."  Edward greeted a shopkeeper, walking up to their butcher stand. The first thing he noticed was how the man in the light blue apron held an enormous knife - wider than his head and how his brows seemed to be unendingly drooped. His stall had meat on display below the counter, and links of sausages hanging from the roof. Many prices were etched in chalk along the blackboard on the side of the stall's right wall. Edward lazily shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, trying to ignore the snarling eyes of onlookers.

"Nice to know. Ya looking to waste my time or are ya going to be spending some dough?" The shopkeeper replied with a hostile growl, beefy arms crossing over his chest as he flashed his butcher knife in one hand.

"No, I'm looking-"

"Can't help ya bud. Come back if you're going to buy something." Edward tried, but the man seemed utterly immovable. However, he could see why everyone was so money orientated in a place like this.

He tried the next stall, ran by an elderly woman selling fruits and vegetables - how fresh they were was another question. There were boxes of tomatoes, lettuces, carrots - all the summer vegetables and fruits lined up in green crates around her stall as she sat with her nose in a newspaper.

"Have you seen a woman named Evelina Lerwick? Dark skin, red eyes, white hair - alchemist?" He held out the picture for the woman to see.

The bean of a woman took it into her bony hands, skin looking like old rubber, and brought it closer until it had reached about an inch away from her green eyes.

"Oh my! An Ishvalan? What would ye be wanting one of those for?" She cried, slapping her hands on her knees. "A strapping young lad as you should go for a nice Amestrian lass!" She slapped her hands on her knees once more.

Edward sighed, and took back the picture. "Have you seen her or not?"

The elder hummed as she thought, biting on the yellowed nail of her thumb before shrugging her scraggly shoulders.

"Can't say that I have the time of day to remember one of those Ishvalan kinds." She drawled, rolling her skinny wrist round and round as she talked.

Edward's chest dropped as he pushed his jaw forward and inhaled deeply.

"Yeah. Thanks for nothing."

 _'Old hag._ '

After a while, he began to realise that outsiders were not so well liked in this part of the city. The fact that Edward was (frankly) incredibly rich didn't help either, because it showed. It showed in the way that Edward walked - garbed in expensive clothes and almost strutting with confidence. He soon realised that he wasn't going to get the results he wanted in the market, and so, he left.

Edward began looking around the street Evelina was said to have been seen: Rockshed Avenue. Mustang wasn't lying when he said that this girl (even if it's not who he's looking for) was an alchemist. Just as he passed into Rockshed Avenue, his focused eyes caught sight of a strange texture on the ground. Embellished into the cement of the road, small rectangular scales which faintly showed a past transmutation. He crouched and brushed his fingers over the transmuted cement and he knew these were the markings of a true alchemist.

He couldn't say that Rockshed Avenue was any better than the market, but the houses were less dilapidated and seemed more structurally sound.

"Hey, you." He approached another civilian metal hand raised slightly with a friendly wave. A young woman turned around long brown hair in a ponytail, blue eyes, narrow features, and a toddler holding onto her sleeve. She nervously greeted Edward with a nod of the head to follow and gently took the picture into her free hand as he explained.

Recognition lit up in her face, and her lips parted while her irises flicked down to the boy.

"You're looking for Evelyn? Are you looking to get your house fixed?" She asked with anxious eyes.

"No, I'm actually here on work from the military."

"O-oh." Was all she said in response. The mother picked up her child - a little boy - and soothed him as he began to fuss. "Well, Evelyn is currently working on Mr Michael's home." The lady gently wrote down the address, as well as faintly pointing out the direction. "If you want to find her straight away, I suggest you look there."

"Hey, thanks!" Edward replied with a bright grin, making off into a sharp run.

"Oh, it was nothing, really."

The houses around that area looked amazingly clean considering the rest of the street. They almost appeared new - and from the faint outline of rectangular scales up the sides of one brick house, Edward knew that this 'Evelyn' was responsible. At least Edward could be certain that Evelina Lerwick was there, in Rockshed, and now he knew that she was using her alchemy to help people rebuild their broken down homes. As his feet slowed, eyes glancing up at the metal numbers fused to a blue front door. He inhaled.

'54 Rockshed Avenue'. He knocked once, twice, three times.

"Hello? This is military business, open up!" He yelled, flesh hand coning his mouth as he tipped on his toes without a conscious thought... There was a pause, a long pause. If there were any signs of life in the building, cast in the shadow of central, the boy had overlooked them. Edward was left stranded in his thoughts. How was this going to go? It was so isolated without Alphonse, unable to bounce his ideas off the ricocheting armour.

'I hope Amara is okay...'

It had been three whole minutes before the light sounds of the chain lock being fondled could be heard and suspicious grey eyes glared down at him through a slightly ajar front door.

"Who're you?" A gruff voice asked snippily. The owner of said voice hiding most of his apparently large body in the darkness of his abode, his square face seeming blue against the lack of light and the obvious pastiness his skin held.

"I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist, who the hell are you?" Edward answered, snippiness to match his.

"David Michael. What do you want?" Edward had the gut feeling that when the man said 'you', he did not mean Edward - he meant a dog of the military.

"I'm looking for a girl named Evelina Lerwick. I was told I'd find her here."

Mr Michael's brows lifted - his forehead creasing like a sheet of sweaty fabric.

"You want Evelyn? Hang on."

Batting an arm at the boy, he clambered off into the depths of his shambled home. It was another long wait until finally a woman was quite literally shoved out of the door. She turned around, shaking her arms angrily as she yelled at the man with a loud ferocious roar. And already cowering behind his broken blue door, Mr Michael dismissed her with his breathy voice.

"I don't want the military coming back here so just go with 'em already."

She took a step forward, slamming her fists against the door - demanding that he paid her for her work. It appeared that the man was either deaf or ignoring her, as the loud clicking sounds of locks being engaged vibrated through the door. Edward watched with prominent eyes as she kicked the door with a rugged leather boot (half a sole falling off) and began spouting less moderate words at the stingy old man before finally, as a train would run out of coal, she ran out of steam, and flopped like a discarded piece of paper onto the steps below her.

Edward observed the girl, who had yet to even recognise his existence beside her on the grey stone steps. Her eyes were small, silver lashes protruding out, and irises fiery. Her skin was sepia and contrasted her stark white hair. Her nose, rather rectangular, a notable feature of the girl's face. Her mouth, her lips were bold and most expressive. Her outfit was entirely made of rags. She wore a long-sleeved beige shirt, cotton most likely, and brown trousers of the same material. Her shoes were ruined through tireless working and her hands were calloused.

"Evelina Lerwick...?" Edward asked with an unsure feeling. Her eyes had met his that instant, and through short silver lashes, she huffed.

“I haven't done anything, so what does a military dog want with me?" Her voice was moderately deep, raising in pitch as she ended her question. A hand ran through her hair as she pushed her long, spiked fringe out of her eyes, and a few locks behind either ear.

The blond offered her a hand up, she took it with a silent thank you. That is when Edward had to crank his head back to look at the girl's face. 'Why is she so damn tall?' He thought dismally.

"I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist. I've been sent by Colonel Roy Mustang to come collect you. Don't ask why, I don't really know, but let's just get this over... with..."

Edward felt his words trailing off into nothing higher than a mumble as he witnessed the girl's sharp eyes slowly widen. The corner's of her lips unfurled as her brows rose in what Edward could only read as shock. It was as if the atmosphere had frozen, people had no longer passed by and the streets had fallen barren. The winds had died - trees still. The musky air had thickened and it appeared as though the girl had choked upon it. Nary a wrapper on the floor to be scraped along the sidewalk by the breeze, nor the squawking of a bird high above to fill the empty, soundless void.

"Roy sent you?" She stammered in disbelief. Could Edward hear the girl's heart throbbing through her very chest? The hard thumping through the blankness that the two shared at that moment, Edward could not tell if it were his own heat emphasising the girl's emotion, or her own heart trying to break free from its cage. Edward reiterated that he was in fact sent by the man with the sloe-toned hair. He fumbled through his pockets with the elegance of an elephant, bringing out his silver pocket watch and a sealed letter signed for (and only for) Evelina Lerwick.

"He told me to give you this." Said Edward as Evelina numbly held the letter in her hands. He couldn't pin down the intense curiosity he felt rising in his throat, seeing the girl's hands tremble softly, eyes still large and irises small. Ripping a thick finger through the opening of the envelope, she carefully pulled out a small white slip from inside.

"What does it say?" Edward asked - seeing her eyes become watery, her lips tensed as if she were, for one reason or another, forbidding herself from crying. Ivory teeth came to clamp down on that thick bottom lip as she whacked a palm across her eyes, furiously rubbing away the tears.

"It's... it's a phone number." Underneath the code of numbers, words. Two words that spoke: call me.

"I need a phone. Now." In the matter of an instant, Evelina's voice had taken a dip from distrust to distress bordering on desperation. Mouth expressing loudly as her lips formed words at an almost inaudible pace, Edward struggled to match her pace while she marched to the market - balled fists by her side and the slip of paper crushed between each tensed finger.

"Wait a minute, what's going on?" He cried, hair flung back as he tried to match Evelyn's long paces with many of his smaller ones. "Damn it! Slow down already!"

No sooner than he said this, he found himself absorbed into the warm back of the Ishvalan teenager. An angered cry escaped his lips before he jumped back with a gloved hand gripping his sore nose.

They were already back at the marketplace, Evelina standing in a red phone booth. The crimson paint of it cracked and peeling, the floor green but he presumed that it used to be brown. It was sticky too. The soles of her breaking shoes clung to the ground as she bounced back and forth in a rhythmic pattern, quaking fingers reaching out, slamming down onto those white numbered buttons with such shaken force that she could have surely destroyed them.

The phone was ringing. Edward could hear that from outside the booth as he feigned disinterest in Roy's personal business, but his sorry-squinting eyes always ended up leading back to Evelina standing there barely gripping the phone enough so she wouldn't drop it. He thought he saw anger in her eyes at first. He did. Edward saw that fire. But then he thought that he saw Shock. Possibly, he did also. But one thing he saw shining out in those blazing red eyes was fear. The moment Roy's ugly name came up, fear was all Edward could see underlying the shock and surprise. 'Who is Evelina Lerwick?'

“It's me Roy, Evelina." Edward was pulled from his small space with soft sounding words. One would think that the girl was calling her mother with the silk tone she used laced with wet regret.

"Where?" She echoed him and leant her head against the front wall of the booth. "Dublith. I-" She was cut off and began nodding as she listened. Edward couldn't hear what Roy was saying, but he could feel that deep murmur coming from the telephone's speaker.

"Okay." She sighed. "Okay," She said again. "I'll see you soon, goodbye." and hung up the phone.

_..._

She had no idea who the Colonel was yelling at down the phone. She could hear him, however, as she came closer to his office door with a brown envelope of documents for him to read through in her hands.

"Where the hell have you been?" She heard him shout with a growl escaping.

"I'm not done yet, do you have any idea how long we've been trying to track you down? How much time our officers have spent searching? Eh?"

Riza inhaled and thought, with her right hand on the doorknob, if it were the right time to go in. Inevitably, she stood still upon hearing his angry yells louden and then soften slowly.

"Just- Just get some food, get clean and get down here as soon as possible." No longer hesitating, she twisted the bronze knob round and pushed into the room.

"Colonel-" her voice was halted by a face she did not expect to see. By the sound of his voice, Riza expected to see Roy sulking, lips straight, him hunched over with his elbows resting on the desk and fingers interlinked over his mouth. She imagined that his eyes were cold and shooting a scornful look at the paperwork in front of him as he silently thought to himself.

What she did not expect to see was the Colonel smiling. Genuinely smiling with a softness in his coal-black eyes that Riza rarely got the honour to witness. He was staring out at the sky again, his gaze followed the light, and then a bird which had swooped in front of the sun came into view. It flapped its wings as it gracefully came closer to central before soaring overhead. He chuckled.

"We found her, Lieutenant." His eyes met her prominent hazel ones, and he repeated: "we found her."

"By 'her', I presume you mean Evelyn, Colonel?" Roy nodded and sighed contently.

"That's wonderful." She said calmly with an earnest shimmer across her corneas.

_..._

Finally, Evelina put down the phone with a shaken breath and she massaged her temples as she turned. She forgot about the short blonde accompanying her.

"I realise we haven't been properly introduced, sorry about all that. I'm Evelina Lerwick, you?" She gave an embarrassed smile as she held out her hand, Edward's coming to meet her's and they shook.

"Edward Elric," Edward replied, sending the girl an odd lock as she had yet to let go of his gloved automail hand. Instead, she raised her brows as she looked his arm up and down with intrigue. One word passed her lips. "Automail?"

Edward laughed as he pulled his hand away, placing it behind his head.

"Yes," He answered, knowing that there was a colossal difference between skin and metal. "What?" She was looking at him strangely. An unfamiliar expression had graced the girl's face, lips straight and eyes focused - just for a moment, however - as she had quickly noted the boy speaking. Evelina blinked a few times, before smiling and shaking her head.

"Sorry. I was told the military didn't hire kids."

"Who're you calling a little kid?!" He yelled as his face flushed red, feet stomping as if the cement was on fire and burning his soles. "Well!" He huffed with his armed crossed over his chest. "I didn't think they'd be interested in a big beanpole either but here we are!"

"I'm not that tall. And I didn't call you 'little'" She retorted with a smirk, knowing herself to be only slightly taller than average for her age.

"Whatever," Edward said crabbily.

The two had hailed a taxi to the train station. It had been awfully quiet, Evelina only gazing out of the window of the back seat, and Edward across from her, staring out of the other one. The girl sat across from him seemed to have little interest to pick up a conversation - by the unconscious jig of her leg and the way she constantly moved her thumb over her fingers, clicking her knuckles, the blond had thought she was rather nervous. That spark of curiosity had tapped those stray hairs between his framing locks straight, and he felt his mind wandering.

Who is she to Roy? Was one question he had thought since the beginning, knowing that her father was close to him. He remembered the disparity in Roy's demeanour as he spoke about Richard Lerwick as if it hurt to. He could not just ask Evelina about her father, could he? The man was in prison, charged and guilty of some of the most heinous crimes imaginable. If it hurt the Colonel (a man usually composed and hardened) to even speak about the man, then Edward would not ask so much of Evelina.

'Why does she seem so shocked that Roy wanted her?' Was another query floating around in the pint-sized teen's brain as his golden irises flicked to the girl while she stared out at the cold, dead sky. She seemed to be in a world of her own making, thinking perhaps. Her hair was trailing down her back, he noticed. He had no reason to pay attention to the girl's hair for any other reason than how unusual it was to see natural white hair nowadays - after the war. Her hair was quite long, tapering off just below her shoulder blades. A lock rested in front of either ear, and a swept fringe fell leaning towards the left side of her face. Just there, at her neck, where the locks in front of her ears parted from the body falling down her back, a light scar the shade of sand sat embedded in her rich thick skin.

That added another question to his foot long list, had she been subjected to the war? If she wasn't born into Amestris, then it was plausible that the girl had seen the horrors of Ishval which would make it all the more ironic that Roy Mustang, a man who seemed to be close to her, and Richard Lerwick, her very own father, were soldiers in the extermination of her kinsmen.

The car's engine purred as it rumbled the car pleasantly. Edward felt his plait drop from his shoulder as his head began to droop against his arm watching the world go by. He wondered how long it would take to get to the station as an acute yawn attacked him. 'Didn't really get much sleep last night...' Remembering his little sister's sick episodes, his eyelids felt heavy as his light lashes began to meet.

"Edward..." A velvety voice lulled to him.

"Edward," the voice felt warm as it called out with a winsome smile.

"It's time to wake up." His shoulder was moved, rocked gently back and forth.

His eyelids parted slowly. "Wh...What?" He moaned with eyes half open, sleep caught in them and dark circling bags ever-present. His shoulders were lax and his body could have been the densest substance on earth, so heavy and immovable.

"Edward, you keep falling asleep. Someone would have stolen your wallet if I wasn't here." Evelina said, sitting back in her train seat. "You fell asleep on the taxi ride up here too, do you not get much sleep?" She asked with a real earnestness to her eyes as she looked down upon him, flattened against the train window with a slick line of saliva trailing his chin.

"I usually do. My sister, she was sick last night and I was caring for her, is all."

"She must appreciate that," Evelina commented as she studied her feet, rubbing one foot against the other.

"I doubt it," Edward replied much too quickly, forgetting that this girl was unaware of the circumstances in which Amara fell so gravely ill. "I mean, I doubt I'm any good as a caretaker, you know?"

Evelina hummed and went to stare out of the window as she had done in the taxi and the conversation dropped. This silence lasted ten or so minutes, and Edward knew that if his brother Alphonse were there, the silence would have been nonexistent. He was good at talking and not starting a fight in doing so.

"Can I ask you a question, Edward?" Evelina asked, eyes still staring out at the lifeless sky. The blond shrugged.

“Only if I can ask one in return, you know, equivalent exchange." Said he, resting his feet onto the wooden seat beside the girl, crossing his flesh leg over the one of steel, and laid his head back against his arms behind him.

Brows of silver raised, Evelina's eyes were filled with question. Her nostrils flared as she let out a sudden breath and turned to look at him.

"Is it about my father?" Her face shone an expression that showed Edward he was treading on thin ice.

"No."

"Then sure."

Evelina went first, sparing a pity glance at Edward's right arm and just by that he knew the subject of her question.

"How'd you lose it?"

Edward, without being aware of it himself, had clutched his automail wrist with his other hand. "This old thing?" He laughed wearily. "Oh, I lost it along with my leg in the eastern conflict."

That was his go-to excuse for people prying into his prosthetics. Usually, people would pity the boy or praise him for surviving such injuries. Evelina just stared - she stared in a way that was reminiscent of the focused gaze she gave him before they got into the taxi hours ago.

"I did too." Sheepishly smiling, her hooded eyes avoided contact with Edward as she lifted her right trouser leg.

The moment Edward's eyes were graced by the light of silver metal, he breathed in guilt. Her foot, calf and knee were all made of metal. Her automail didn't look too bright nor shiny as his did, and appeared to have a lack of maintenance from the way her prosthetic ankle sat slightly crooked. Its model was outdated and cheap. Who was her mechanic?

"In the Ishvalan war?" Edward asked.

"Yes, you?"

"...No. It was another conflict in the east."

Evelina dropped her trouser leg and began rubbing her metal knee as if she had a cramp. To the common eye, it would seem strange for a person to act as if they could feel pain in a limb which was no longer there, but Edward knew with tight lips of empathy, that talking about how she lost her leg may have stirred up some phantom pains.

"What was your question?" Biting the inside of her cheek as the pain begins to subside, she asked.

"Oh, my question. So, what are you to Mustang? A friend or something? He said something about your father and him being close but I didn't understand why he was looking for you in particular."

"Oh," She responded, a little taken back. Perhaps she had assumed Roy would have given Edward more information.

"Well..."


	5. The Day of the Lost and Found

The feeling of gunfire halted after a day of nonstop rapid fire and wailing bullets streaking through the winds in a barrage of red and yellow was... unnerving. The few guns still emptying their barrels as the night drew onwards, sounding in the distance through heavy winds and drizzling rains cold as ice. The winds howled on with the cries of orphan children and widowed wives, air drafting the blood of the dead along the cruel and twisted ride.

A trumpet played, signalling a ceasefire for the night. While monks, men and women, children lay dead against the red desert sand - soldiers rested around a campfire lit by empty promises to protect their country and fuelled by the promise of going home to their loved ones while their hands had been permanently coated in the thick blood of the innocent.

Not a face the same. Some soldiers were blond, some were brunettes. Some were sickly thin and some were large and muscular. Some held rifles and guns while others held knowledge of alchemy and science. However, one thing all these soldiers shared, was something they had all gained during the war. Not experience, and not wisdom, no resolve nor hope - just a dim look in the iris and sunken features, eyes with bags blue and shallow. A killer's eyes.

One soldier in particular held this look with a melancholy lower lip, corners furled downward as his skin dragged on. His face had skin so pale and sickly it was blue, only just radiated with the colour of the flickering auburn campfire. His jaw, sharp and strong, was fuzzy with dark stubble which leads up and tickled his upper lip.

In his large, white-gloved hands, a silver pocket-watch. To which was attached a chain of the same material - a chain tying him to the Amestrian military. He was an animal tied to a leash. The man snarled and lifelessly glared into his depressed reflection against the glass of the inside watch. Mint green irises peering up at him, his mousey brown brows gathered and round ovular glasses flared against the light of the dancing flame.

His military uniform was dirty, filthy with dust from the desert and blood of the Ishvalan people he had massacred senselessly - like a beast. How could he return to his wife and daughter, knowing the things he had done, the sins he had committed?

"I had to kill a child today." He breathed out with a rustic murmur to his tone. "She couldn't have been any older than my Rashmi." His eyes had lifted from the family picture embedded into his watch and found themselves penitently seeking those of a coal-colour, narrow and sad.

"Mustang, have you had to off a child yet?" He asked with a soulless gaze, head tilted with an exhausted strain. The man beside him, with ivory skin, made orange in the fire's light, and hair blending in with the black of night, sighed and brushed a hair out of his eyes.

“I have, Brigadier General Lerwick." He replied, "I fear it is something I may never get over, nor will I atone for in the future". Mustang looked like a rat caught in the rain with his hair soaked from earlier on in the day, only to be dried by the desert's icy night breeze. He shuffled closer to the warmth.

"Call me Richard, Mustang. If I should die tomorrow, I wish it be so that I may indulge myself in a selfish familiarity with my brothers and sisters in arms." Richard told him as he used his middle finger, rather oblong shaped and large, to push up the centre of his glasses to sit more comfortably against the bridge of his nose.

Mustang simply nodded and lowly smiled a sad smile as he stared on into the campfire.

"If I should die tomorrow also, I wish for one thing to be cleared." Richard continued having cleared his aching throat. "Major Roy Mustang, I think of you as a brother."

"As do I, Richard."

"And it is because of this, I must ask of you a selfish favour."

Richard said this with an expression which was not a smile nor frown yet held the meaning of both as he passed on with the delicacy of a swan, his silver watch.

"My daughter." He started, a slight warmth lighting his eyes. "Her name is Rashmi, as you know. I don't know if I may survive this war, Roy. And if don't, I need to know that she will be looked after.

"Rashmi was taken to the southeast refugee camp close to Xing. Please, please will you find her and take her to Amestris with you?" The grown man, older than Mustang by quite a few years, was close to begging on his knees as his voice grew more desperate. "Please. Give her an Amestrian name. Send her to an Amestrian school. Give her an Amestrian life. I'll leave all my money to you to look after my girl."

Mustang's eyes widened ever so slightly in astoundment and let out a breath with a slim smile tugging at his lips.

"You're asking a lot of me, Richard."

"I will not deny it, Roy."

"But," his pale hand came to grip his chin lightly. His onyx eyes mirrored the shine of the determined fire before him. "I'll do it because I know you, and I know you'll live through this war and go home to father your child yourself."

Richard chuffed fondly. "I can't tell if you're being optimistic or trying to get out of responsibility."

"Well, I'm not known to be overly optimistic." Without looking at the raven-haired man, Richard could hear that smirk in his voice. He was glad though. A moment as sound and tranquil as this was rare, but Richard couldn't help but sense that oddly nauseating feeling of dread - dread and the thought that he didn't deserve to smile such at such a time. But to see Roy, along with his other underlings, share a quiet harmonious titter amongst themselves for once in a blue moon - it allowed Richard to shove those dark thoughts aside and focus on moving onwards.

"Who knows," Richard started, easing himself into his calm mindset. "Perhaps if I didn't make it, my Rashmi could be a reason for you to finally make a move on that Hawkeye."

Roy choked on dusty air. "What?" He laughed.

"Apart from the evident swooning looks you give her - most families are made up of a mother and father when a child is involved." The light-brown haired man shrugged his shoulders, cleaning his glasses with his blue uniform blazer.

"And you think Riza should be the mother?" Roy jested, continuing to hold a teasing tone.

"Well, I'm not saying she should be the father if that's what you mean." He clapped the younger man on the back with a closed eye smile.

"Ignore me, Mustang. I really should be  focusing more on living, rather than a million and one presumptuous 'what-if's." With a stretch of his arms over his head, he let out a dry yawn and continued to watch the limbs of a flame jump from the campfire like the branches of a tree in the wind.

 

Edward's beige lips dropped apart, his eyebrows hitched sharply and even his golden hair seemed to bristle, blond tips spiking out like small needles.

"Y-Your godfather?!" He cried in disbelief. "No way!" His feet planted themselves on the wooden floor, making a hard thump and a little clink from his left leg.

"It's true!" She laughed, flicking a leg atop her right one. Her head came to rest upon her hairless fist with her elbow perched on the window ledge. "He's been my legal guardian since I was nine, not fatherhood material but I can't complain." She added with a simple shrug of the shoulders.

"Wait, he doesn't get all mushy like General Hughes does he?"

"Oh god no!" She flicked her wrist at him, shaking her head. "He's more of a 'here's some books, here's a radio, here's food, you should be fine' kinda guy you know?"

"Aw man. I was hoping to get some collateral on that bastard." Said Edward, puffing out his cheeks and pouty bottom lip. He chose to entertain the thought of Roy being an overprotective father like Maes - it didn't stick well in his head but it was still a funny thought.

With the sun beaming through the ajar window, birds chirping through the trees, and the clicking of the train wheels against the tracks, the teen basked in the warmth. They were out of North Central for sure.

"So how did you learn Alchemy?" Edward asked, running his fingers through the unbraided hair at the end of his plait. "Roy teach you or somethin'?"

Evelina shook her head. "I learnt through books mainly, however, I first got into it through my father - his journals I mean."

Golden eyes almost narrowing, he tightened his lips seeing how Evelina's Ruby ones faded away to the side. The window became very interesting all of a sudden to her, apparently.

"His journals?"

"His journals" She repeated. "They are the only items I still have from my old home in Ishval. I, uh..." Stroking a hand through her white hair, trying to hold eye contact and keep the metaphorical ball rolling in an attempt to seem frivolous, Evelina ultimately quietened off at the mention of her so-called 'old home'.

Edward thankfully noticed.

"Don't wanna talk about it? No biggie, you can ask me a question you know."

"Okay..." Evelina hummed. "Tell me about that sister of yours."

"That's not really a question." Said he, leaning back so that his blond head met the wooden front of the passenger seating. "Well, she's ten. Amara, she has a tendency for being ill - it's a genetic thing and incurable so we're trying to find a way to make her better. Since she can't do much physical stuff, she... she likes to draw a lot." Edward's soft eyes flickered down, his lips spreading slowly, eyelids crinkling slightly. "She's actually quite amazing. It's scary how good she is, I'm jealous."

The boy seemed to nod to himself as she spoke, tapping his toes up and down like a little-excited kangaroo, little clinks sounding soft as he did so.

"It's like she has a camera in her mind." He tapped a digit to his forehead effervescently and laughed. "She's kind, and takes after my brother, and my mum, I'm sure."

"You sound like you really care about her, huh?"

Edward chuffed. "Yeah. After our mum died, I guess I really realised how important family is. I had to look after her, still do."

Evelina's face reflected the blond's. Smiled back at him, fiddling with her fingers. "Tell me about your brother?"

"Ah, Al. He's... Alphonse is sassy as hell when he wants to be. And he can be really innocent - but at the same time... not?" Edward scratched the side of his head. "I don't know. But Al is super smart, he's an alchemist too, almost as good as me. He's also an awesome fighter, I've never beaten him once." Evelina noticed how he seemed to beam, talking about this brother of his. Edward rolled his eyes as he thought, then he sighed exaggeratedly with his bottom lip jutting out as he crossed his arms over his chest. "He's also freakishly tall and wears armour so don't be surprised when you meet him."

She smirked, tapping her dark fingers rhythmically over her knee, one by one. "You sound almost jealous."

"Am not! Shut up!" He retorted snappily, clutching the edge of his seat as he craned forward with cheeks flushed red.

As the final half an hour of the three-hour train ride came to a comfortable close, Edward and Evelina spent most of the time exchanging questions in an alchemic reaction process. The topic hadn't strayed too far from family, Edward vaguely mentioning his lack of a father and speaking of his late mother multiple times. He had come to learn that the Ishvalan-Amestrian girl before him was an only child and was separated from her mother during the war. Edward felt that he did not hold the right, however, to press into any topic even grazing the civil war - so he did not.

She had told him about how Roy and his second Lieutenant, Riza, were like an aunt and uncle to her after the war ended - though it took her a while to warm up to them. Edward sat and listened with intrigue to the very moment where the speakers of the train buzzed with static before a beeping sound occurred loudly, announcing that they had finally arrived in central.

Evelina closed her eyes, standing in the shadow of the lean train beside her - exhaling deeply. A tin taste on her tongue, bustling cars beeping in the background. She brushed a white lock over her shoulder and felt the humid, dusty air against her neck and sighed.

"I'm back." Was all she said.


	6. The Day of the Fuhrer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [10/11/18]  
> Again, short chapter but it makes the story flow better. Thanks for your understanding!
> 
> \- E

The Führer's office was a rather standard sized room (teetering on the edge of a moderately large one) with enough room for a very spacious mahogany desk which resembled very much a judge's podium. Behind the Führer's chair, intimidating and dark, was the country's insignia embellished into the cream walls. Either side of the desk were two large windows that reached from ceiling to floor and rounded at the top to look like an arch. The room was flooded with warming pink light. Scarlet, luxurious curtains were draped over these windows and tied back against the wall with a golden rope.

As one came into the room they'd find twin two-seater sofas, each with crimson cushions and spiralling onyx details with a pale carpet of the same colour as the curtains and cushions underneath. Evelina was sat on the left seat, which was facing the other but sat sideward from the Führer's desk, and Roy faced her on the other.

Evelina, drowning in Roy's itchy coat (suggested to be worn by Roy, noticing all the rips and holes in her shirt), felt a little nauseated by the presence of the most powerful man in the country. Her legs were jelly and her arms were noodles. Roy sat with his iron legs together, knees touching and arms crossed over his chest.

"The citizens of northern Central seem quite thankful for your presence, Miss. Lerwick."  The man at the desk, the Führer said. He was a tall man with death-black hair and sharp green eyes. A peculiar thing Evelina had noticed about the man was his leather eyepatch hiding his left eye. He had a strong jaw and a thick nose sheltering a large, sharp moustache. His skin shone his older age, greying and lined. On his shoulders were four golden stars each, shining his rank. Over his heart were three different medals, the middle longer than the ones either side it. On his hip, a leather sheath. Inside it, a rapier sword. Evelina quietly choked down air.

“Thank you, sir." Said she, straitening up her back and crossing her legs.

The Führer was smiling. "It is no problem at all, someone who valiantly fought to protect our country deserves the praise and recognition."

Roy was emotionless in his face. Evelina voted to not look him in the eyes. "I also see that you destroyed one of the transmutation circles created by Isaac. May I ask why?" The Führer asked, fingers intertwined on his smooth desk.

Her hands came to brush through her hair, pushing her fringe up before clearing her throat. "If you don't mind my asking, sir... How did you know I did that?"

“I have many eyes, miss."

"Oh." She raised her silver eyebrows slightly in surprise, unsure of the feeling of being watched. "W-Well, I recognised certain symbols which represent that of water state change..." Evelina continued onward, trying to keep eye contact respectfully with her Führer while staying on the point with her recount. She knew the transmutation was dangerous from the moment she saw the symbols for 'water' and 'ice'. It couldn't have been a child drawing in the streets, practising alchemy, it was too advanced. And a normal alchemist would never just leave a transmutation circle as dangerous as that out in the alleyway. Out of fear that something would set off the transmutation which seemed to be a trap, she used a damp rag to wipe away the chalk matrix. She hadn't expected it to be involved in something so severe, however. Still, she was glad that she had done what she did.

The Führer clasped his hands together, a grin in his eyes. "I see a great future ahead of you as an Alchemist, Miss. Lerwick." To which she thanked him quaintly but said nothing else as she noted the elder man making his spine rigid and leaning forward with a look in his iridescent eyes which brought a darker tone to the conversation.

"I would offer you a job here, your abilities speak for yourself." His eyes never left her curved form as his face sternly looked down upon her from that podium of his. "However, I must ask you something before it can even be considered."

What could he ask her? She seemed to shrink into the warm coat around her in unruly anticipation, her heart starting to beat against the drums of her ribcage like raindrops against the pavement. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked on. Tick. Tock. Tick. Louder and louder. Her heart and the clock strumming in unison. The Führer's lips were parting to continue after the short yet unbearably long pause-

"Evelina Lerwick, you by now must be well aware of your father's actions during the war of Ishval. Murder, treason, human transmutation, attempted assassination of the Führer. I must know how you feel towards this."

She swallowed some bitter saliva which had pooled under her tongue. How did she feel about it? In complete honesty, she'd never thought about it as a whole. As a younger teen, she couldn't fathom her father's mindset. How could a man who lived in Ishval for so many years, married an Ishvalan woman, fathered Ishvalan children, take part in the massacre of the Ishvalan people? How could he kill so many of their kinsmen and woman and then murder his own Amestrian soldiers? Did he have no sense of loyalty at all? He didn't seem to care for his wife or her people, nor his home country, where he was raised.

He was conscripted. 'He had no choice, but Ishvala will protect his soul.' Her mother told her while she grew up. Somehow, her dear mother managed to keep the idea of her husband returning to her pure and unbloodied. While the sands of their village travelled with the breeze, and the children of Ishvala were left to wonder when the war would come for them next, her mother prayed that her husband would protect them in some way - as if he had the power to. And human transmutation? Why? Who did he want back so badly that he would commit an alchemist's ultimate taboo?

Sitting awkwardly, holding her hands down on her knees, she flicked her eyes up at the Colonel peering back at her. His lips were tight, she saw. He was thinking about Richard, she knew. But the light burning in his eyes, they were on fire, absolutely blazing. His eyes had never been so intense.

"Richard Lerwick, my father by blood, is no more than another stranger to me, your honour. I haven't seen or spoken to that man since the war started. I have only one memory of my father, and that is a blurred one at best. I do not know him - and for what he has done, to your people and mine, I do not wish to." Inhaling, her hand brushed through her locks as she closed her eyes briefly. The Führer just hummed in response.

"Alright," his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth. "How do you feel towards me, the man who warranted the death of your people?"

Her breath hitched unnoticeably and she blinked twice before realising that she actually had to answer that question - no, it was expected of her.

“Excuse me, sir?" She pleaded.

"It's nothing more than a formality, Miss Lerwick. It would be rather imprudent if I were to employ someone who wants me dead, now would it?"

She supposed that was true, as she clamped her hands together between her thighs, mulling over how to respond. "War is war." Her voice became more proud and sturdy. "As an Amestrian-Ishvalan citizen, I tend to look at the war from both perspectives and I understand that our military was given little choice." Lies.

Silence took over the room. Führer Bradley's face was unreadable, blank, like marble. His eyes held no emotion as he peered down at the Ishvalan teenager who was feeling like a small, easy to squish, bug under the gaze of those shallow but deadly eyes.

“That makes me incredibly happy to hear." But his face did not prove that.

 

The rest of the meeting with Führer Bradley wasn't too eventful. Besides prattling on about certain details for exams she must take in order to qualify for a state alchemist certification, Evelina had to sit and read through many contracts, understand what they were telling her, and sign where necessary.

She had to show her talents in a combative situation for one exam, fighting against other candidates in an all-out brawl, according to the Führer. This would be overseen by Colonels and members of higher rank, including the Führer - and they picked out the ones they thought were fit to fight. Then there was the alchemic exam, where the Führer and two other high ranking senior officers would examine each candidate individually and rank them based on alchemic talent, and their research. Finally, there was a written exam. Apparently, that was the hardest, it included topics such as Amestrian history, their wars with other countries, politics, and of course, science.

But there was one more thing that the Führer was looking for, experience. Experience fighting, experience in some sort of business - anything that can make it easier to sort the state alchemists into categories. Edward Elric did a lot of missions for his commanding officer, whereas Roy Mustang only went out on high-risk missions. Some alchemists were strictly researching for the government and everything they discovered became the property of the Führer.

Had she experienced fighting? Not a lot. She had learned Ishvalan martial arts at a young age but she was never exceptional at it and only once found a use for it. Had she worked in a business? No. However, she did have a lot of experience using alchemy in practical situations. Frankly, at sixteen years old, she didn't have much under her belt except basic self-defence, the ability to speak a dead language, and a high skill in alchemy.

Roy jumped on the opportunity to point this out.

"Well, I am sure you will be able to prove yourself worthy of wearing the stars in due time." Führer Bradly reassured her, his low voice dragging out. "Mustang," he lifted his left hand towards him, eye flicking to the left where he sat agitated. "You are Fullmetal's commanding officer, you could send Miss Lerwick out with him on a low-risk mission, with my permission I insist that you do."

Roy's eyebrows raised slightly yet he was determined to remain expressionless in front of his superior. "Yes, sir." He replied as if his fire had been put out. Evelina never saw this side of Roy before. He'd always been the highest ranking officer she'd met, and he'd be the most demanding man she'd ever met too. Now he was rolling over and showing his belly to the top dog and she wasn't sure if she liked it.

“What is his next mission, Colonel Mustang?" The top dog queried, interlocking his strong fingers over his shining maroon desk, the sunlight being blocked by his hands and unable to bounce back into the room.

“Reole, sir." He cleared his throat, with a fist over his mouth. "I've heard rumours of a priest using some sort of alchemic amplifier to manipulate the religious townsfolk of Reole. In three days, Fullmetal will be sent out."

"Perfect. Miss Lerwick, you will leave with the Elric's on Friday, think of this as an opportunity to test the waters of our work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would be greatly appreciated, tell me how I am doing! Good? Bad? Constructive Criticism? All welcome, I just want to make my writing as good as it can be for all of you readers.


	7. The Day of the Family

Winter was awful. The rain was horrible. The wind was repulsive. She wanted to go home. Trudging through the icy roads of Dublith while sharp raindrops held her down and beat her senseless, she regretted everything.

While her hair scarcely differed from icicles and her nose had run red, the rain kept on pouring. Why was she still out here? She should just go home. No, she couldn't. She had things to prove, and Roy wouldn't want her back even if she tried. She'd never seen Roy yell like that before, he was so angry it scared her. Pure fire flashing from his eyes, the man earned his title.

Minutes were eternities in that weather, only wearing thin trousers and a grey button up shirt, just about insulated by an old forest green jacket she'd scavenged from an alleyway. It still smelled like alcohol, 'it's past owner must have had a problem.' Gripping her upper arms tightly, rubbing them to induce friction, she wondered if her body would ever stop its unending shivers. Her legs were completely numb, one would mistake her for a penguin with her waddling ice legs.

Then, her stomach gurgled and the feeling of air moving about her insides made her notice despite the rain droning out the rumbling sounds it made. When was the last time she ate? When is the next time she will? Tired eyes, snowy eyelashes thick with water drops, fell to a reasonably dry park bench, sheltered by an old willow tree. She could remember her bed, it was comfortable with a sturdy mattress and thick duvets she could wrap herself in and fall asleep like a cocooned caterpillar. Staring up at the street lamp up high, grazing the black leaves of the willow tree, she sighed. The lamp flickered its dim light, the bulb was dying, and it scarcely illuminated anything at all.

Still, like a moth to a flame, she was attracted to the small dying glow. That was her bed for tonight, a metal park bench and an old green jacket as a blanket. 'Almost as good as home' she thought sarcastically as she grabbed a pale yellow chalk stick from her brown backpack on her shoulder and began to etch a circle onto the ground.

After placing her jacket onto the transmutation circle, and then gracing the chalk lines with the underside of her hands, a small lightning flash of aqua shot out to the heavens, and heaven-sent one back. Real lightning thrashed the earth in the distance as the storm worsened. At least now she had a blanket. The bottom was fluffy with ashy cotton like the jacket did and held the same pungent bar smell.

She would transmute a shelter for herself, however, she had learned the hard way that police officers and park rangers didn't like it when one changes a tree to a small hut or gravel to a tipi-style slum.

While her lips bashed against each other, blue and frozen, and a freezing liquid streamed from her nose, she rubbed her face into the blanket before furling it around her. 'I need money or I'll die out here.' The sky was so dark and starless through the illumination of the village lights. She missed the stars, they were so bright back in Ishval, and although the desert nights were cold, the days scalding hot, she missed her village too.

The sand was softer than the fluff of her blanket, and the sky was always a pure and honest blue. The sun always illuminated the day with bright intentions. After waking up in her two-roomed homemade from hand out of sandstone, she'd have breakfast and head to school at the monk's temple. She loved learning all the practices of the monks, the prayers and stories of Ishvala. Ancient Ishvalan was her favourite thing to study because it was an entirely different language which only monks and monks in training knew. Then there was hand to hand combat, only to be used in self-defence. Evelina remembered struggling in that class, more out of fear of being hit or hurt.

She let out a quaint chuff. She was such a little coward.

Her classes were small in size, not all Ishvalan children went to school. A lot learned from the men and women of the households and got into trades such as carpentry, blacksmithing and agriculture. Evelina's mother was a monk, and so she followed in her footsteps. Her elder brother, Bethuel, did too, however, he joined the war when he became fifteen years of age. Not many people she knew had made it to the Xingese refugee camp. Out of her whole group of friends - Bladen, Arvio, Bassma, Nijah, Shaia, Shasma and Yeira - only Arvio made it, and that was because he'd been running with Evelina when the military rolled in.

The tips of her fingers were going numb and a lifeless grey. She began rubbing them together and blowing warm air onto her clasped palms. It never rained in Ishval. It was never so agonisingly freezing either. However, Ishval or Amestris one and the same, she wanted to go home. She could be sitting in her living room, listening to the radio, with the fire roaring high, Roy in his study working and making light conversation about work with her, and she'd be completely content.

"What are you doing out here in this weather?"

A sudden deep female voice called through the rain bordering on sleet. She looked up but found it difficult to see through her condensing breath and the lacklustre light. There was a woman in a thick brown coat, hood over her hair although thin black (or brown, it was moderately difficult to tell in the night) dreadlocks dripped out. She couldn't see much of her face in the shadows, but she sounded concerned. While the woman walked along the path, umbrella in hand, she came to a stop at the fourteen-year-old girl on the bench.

"Well?" She pursued.

 

Familiarity was an incredibly impervious sensation. A sensation Evelina was experiencing while dancing timid steps into the sanctuary.

Her room was a reminder of her youth. It was untouched, like everything inside it was an ancient artefact. She knew that Roy wouldn't have bothered to do anything to her bedroom while she was away, despite threatening to turn it back into his study when she moved out. Her lips had lifted with a nostalgic glance around the room. On the walls, oak bordered with a beige paint body, were numerous drawings, diagrams of transmutations, notes and also sepia-toned photographs. There was a desk in the far left corner of the room which used to belong to Roy, but he bought a new one when his study became a large cupboard under the stairs. There were still books littering the underside of the desk, old books with frayed material bindings and broken spines.

Her fingers brushed over the rough surface of one book and they returned smothered in an ash coloured substance. Two years worth of dust. Sat down in her old black desk chair, she placed both hands on the desk and turned her head back.

"It's good to be back." She told Roy with an oil-lamp lit smile. He leant against the threshold and hummed in response, but said nothing. Roy still seemed angry that she went and joined the military, despite him telling her not to for years. He didn't want her to be made to kill, he didn't want her to not have a choice. He was given responsibility to this child and he felt as if he were failing Richard by allowing her to do this.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye will be over shortly, along with Hughes, I suggest that you get changed." And be prepared for a bone crushing hug as Hughes cries his eyes out before going on a tangent about his young daughter, and prepared for a stern lecture from Riza for running away and another when she heard about what the Führer had to say.

Evelina nodded in agreement, wondering if she even had anything that still fit her grown body. Eventually, she did find a white blouse with small frills running parallel down her centre, which was much too big for her when she was younger. Along with that, a pair of tight-fitting black trousers which used to be baggy. Bringing the rusty oil lamp over to her mirror, she started combing through her fair hair and tying it back in a ponytail, leaving two locks either side her fringe to fall free and frame her face.

It was dark outside, and the air held a calmness to it. It felt particularly warm and a secure blindness that hid all danger from the world. She felt particularly... safe. While prodding her face, noticing each little freckle and spot, chuckling at her own fat nose and thick lips, strong jaw and sphere-chin, she sighed. 'I look kind of like mother.' She said, remembering her face. Her small, dainty eyes and soft skin. The warmth she held in those candle-fire eyes.

'I wonder where you are, mother.' Her mother was out there, she knew it. In a refugee camp or roaming as a nomad. Her mother had made it out of the village alive, she remembered that. And she was running with her, she remembered that too. Then the man in the white suit came, baring his fangs and strutting with claws open wide, she remembered that specifically.

Her leg began to throb and she gripped her metal knee up to her chest upon the vanity chair. Her hands seemed to sink into the grooves of her automail, and it aggravated her. Why was she feeling pain in a limb she lost years ago? Why did her brain have to be so moronic, telling her that she was feeling pain in something that was not even there?

She remembered her mother pushing her out of the way and the man chose to go for her rather than her mother. Perhaps he was a sadistic monster, wanting to kill a child in front of its mother. She remembered her mother screaming for her. 'Rashmi!' She cried Evelina's Ishvalan name as she fell from life and her world dimmed.

Next thing she knew, she was looking into the blue eyes of a male doctor, and she had no leg. They told her that there was no body other than her own when they found her. 'Mother is alive.' She reminded herself forcefully. An owl cawed into the echoing darkness.

"-Evelyn, get your ass down here!" Roy called from the foot of the stairs. Jolting slightly, she realised that Roy had been calling her for the last minute and irritation had set into his voice.

"Yeah! I'm coming!" She yelled back loud enough for Roy to hear through the thick door. She wondered if Hughes had arrived or perhaps Riza had. Knowing Hughes, he'd have rushed right over the moment he heard Evelina was back in town - and that probably happened in the four hours that Roy had spent gone from his house while Evelina stayed in her room, reestablishing herself, finding decent clothing and frankly cleaning herself up (a bath or shower wasn't a particularly common sight when you're homeless and a young teen, so she enjoyed that long and bath hot as a day under the desert summer sun).

Maes Hughes was Roy's best friend, as far as Evelina knew. She also was aware that the man was also close to her father, despite never bringing him up. He was a tall, generous and selfless man and loved his family to the point of harmless obsession - it made her

smile remembering being thirteen and Maes showing her pictures of his wife, Gracia, with a swollen pregnant stomach. He was so proud of her and tried his very hardest to make her pregnancy as comfortable as possible.

Then Elicia was born, and Roy brought Evelina along to congratulate Maes and Gracia. Evelina even got to hold the baby. Her petit eyes flashed over the shadow-engulfed picture hanging on the wall, it was taken by Maes of that scene, she was sitting cross-legged on Gracia's hospital bed beside the short-haired woman, a pink blob the size of a teddy bear in her hands while she made extra-sure to support the newborn's head with her arms.

Elicia would be nearing three years old and she hoped that Maes brought her along, but seeing how the clock read ten o'clock atop the staircase as she whizzed down them in a flurry of excited steps, she knew the toddler wouldn't be awake.  Maybe she could go visit the Hughes' with the allotted few days she had before Reole.

"Where's my runaway niece?"

It was most definitely Maes Hughes calling from the living room. He was the only one who referred to Evelina as his 'niece'. He was like her uncle growing up, so he well earned the title 'Uncle Maes.’

She rushed through the open doorway and grinned.

"Evie!"

"Uncle Maes!" She said with open arms as he opened his. He pulled her into a hug and patted her on the head. 'Is he crying?' She really should have expected it, considering it was Maes. With tear-sodden cheeks, he continued to pat her head and comment on how she had grown.

"You had us both worried sick, young lady!" He scolded with an overdramatic pouting lip. Maes was a tall man with stubble all over his jaw and chin. His eyes were square shaped, olive green and slightly sunken. Brows well defined. His hair had a similar appearance to the Führer's, slicked back and black, however, Maes's was slightly shaggier and a thick lock fell forward, similarly to how Edward Elric had a single stray lock determined to isolate itself from the crowd.

"I did?" She asked, not realising that she would have upset Gracia by leaving. Her teeth tugged at the inside of her cheek before she apologised. "I'm sorry, please tell Gracia that I didn't mean to worry her."

"Gracia? Oh no! I mean - Gracie was worried, sure. But I'm talking about this guy." And Roy's face darkened as Maes wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving him a riveting shake. The shadows of the lightbulb up above seemed to perfectly hide Roy's face under the self-made shadows of his hair.

"I was not, Hughes." He droned, rolling his dark eyes and leaning away from the emotional man in glasses. "I trusted that Evelyn could handle herself." His friend, however, was not having it.

"You should have heard your old man!" Hughes jotted a thumb at his best friend. "'This is our top priority! I don't want to hear a word about anything other than where Evelyn went! We need to find her now!', he was unreasonable!" Maes was grinning as he held up his index finger and impersonated the man beside him, giving him nudges with his elbow and laughing.

"Hughes is exaggerating."

"And I'm sure I'm exaggerating on how you literally spent weeks roaming around on the streets looking for her, yourself, having crazy ideas that she'd been kidnapped and someone was out to get you, and refusing to do any work until you literally dropped from exhaustion and had to stop." Maes sent Roy a poignant look, which was responded with an unappreciative grunt. The slender man wearing those silver rectangular glasses sent Roy a scorning eye, apparently not happy with him pretending as if the past two years never happened.

A wave of guilt rushed over the Ishvalan, hearing about Roy's reaction. It certainly was unexpected, but at the same time, she didn't expect Roy to just treat her disappearance with indifference.

"Roy I-" She felt an insatiable urge to make it up to the Colonel, but could not even begin to think of how. Maybe she shouldn't have spent so much time purposely keeping out of Roy's line of sight. "-I really am sorry."

"It's fine." He said tightly lipped.

 

The conversation was dropped, Roy made sure of it. While Evelina wanted to apologise over and over, she knew that Roy did not want her to - and was adamant to pretend it was all in the past. She'd gotten her own way, she knew that, but she felt terrible, sick that Roy seemed to be just letting her do what she wanted now. She didn't want him to think she'd just pull a fast one the moment he told her no, however, there was a little spark in the back of her brain. A voice that told her, and reasonably so, that it was partially his fault she left.

She would have returned had he not told her that she wasn't allowed to come back if she left. He called her 'Evelina' for the first time since she had first gotten the name really. She never forgot that sentence, he rarely called her by the full name he had gifted her. And by calling her by the name, she was hit with an iciness unbecoming of the flame alchemist, piercing her with that freezing sensation and her eyes, she remembered, dampened.

'Stop lying to yourself.' She knew that it wasn't Roy's fault. She kept telling herself that she needed to grow up and accept the responsibility but... No. 'Take responsibility for yourself you coward.' She was blaming Roy because he was her safety net. If she couldn't blame him, then all the guilt goes to her. 'Accept it.' She didn't want to. 'You aren't the victim here.'

In the heat of everything, she regrettably screeched some hurtful words before slamming the door behind her and sprinting down the streets in the dead of night.

She could barely believe that it had been two whole years already, and now she was looking down at a crystal glass with a wooden coloured liquid inside. Eyes glancing from the glass in her hands, Maes was sat cross-legged on Roy's sleek black sofa next to him. Nervousness taking to her face, she presented a faltering smile.

"I'm not sure..." She said, tilting the octagonal glass back and forth with the liquid inside swishing and curling like miniature waves caught in a storm.

"Hey, hey. If you're old enough to serve in the military, you're old enough for this. Drink up." Roy told her with a ruddy face, a bottle of half-drunken whisky between the two men. Both of their eyes never left her, she noted, as she brought the glass to her lips, and a smirk had begun to furl on the pale man's face while she quickly tried to shot it down. Evelina quickly began coughing, squinting her eyes shut and shaking her hands vigorously as she tried to keep it down before gasping.

"That was awful! How can you two drink that stuff?" They both laughed.

"We're adults. That's why." Said Roy before taking a sip of his own drink.

"Well, you can keep your nasty alcohol."

Mid-sentence, three knocks sounded from the front door. "I'll get it." Maes decided as he jumped up from the sofa with a hearty smile on his lips. A strong voice drifted through the hall, a nightly chill drafting from the wide open door.

"Good evening, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes." Evelina's ears perked up dragging her shoulders with them when she heard the calming voice which followed a certain blonde haired woman into the room.

"Riza, it's Maes. We're among friends! Relax a little." Hughes told her, patting her on the shoulder as they walked side by side into the room. She cascaded in with the ceiling light softly illuminating them, her sweet peach coloured skin radiating it. Her brown eyes, upper lids rigid and straight, lower more curved at the apex, gave her a constant emotionless resting face - almost as if she were bored.

Her eyes slowly centred on Evelina, making the tangent of gazing down at the Colonel and the seat beside his sofa. Each bare. Then, as her eyes began to settle on the teenager who had already sprung up with widened eyes and maroon lips slightly agape, a little emotion flickered into that stoic facade. The clock ticking ever so quietly in the background became louder and louder to the point where it more reminisced a steel drum rather than a sandy coloured piece of clockwork.

The rush was sudden, yet the world had slowed. That round, pale face and eyes like a blade. It brought back pictures of memories in the youth's mind in the style of a thundering tsunami.

Evelina didn't think she had grown too much, yet last time she saw this woman, she reached her shoulders in height. Now, about to become a state alchemist, seeing eye to eye with this woman, they were equal. It was strange. She had no words to say. She had apologies. She had regrets. But her lips would not syllabise her thoughts.

'Breathe' Her lungs cried feeling as though the wind had been kicked from her. Riza was... unreadable. Her face seemed to be a mixture of shock, anger, surprise and... her brows crossed. Riza bit her lip, sharply raising her hand to slap the girl. Her hand wavered in the air there for a moment. Wooden eyes became damp like a tree in the rain and a singular water droplet fell from her leaves.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Riza pulled the younger girl into a hug, surprising Evelina who was braced for a well deserving slap. The blonde woman murdered on, knowing that Evelina was the only one to hear her. "You could have been hurt, killed, kidnapped ...or worse." Slowly, long sepia arms came to wrap around Riza's body and hugged her back with a clinging desperation.

More tears fell. Evelina's tears streaked down her cheeks like lost shooting stars ripped from the sky. A naive glitter sparkled in the dew of her tears. "I'm so, so sorry. I- I was scared and I really thought that Roy hated me and that I couldn't come back. I'm so sorry Riza."

'No you weren't. You were just being a selfish child.'

Pale hands came up and held Evelina's face while Riza pulled back. "It was an incredibly ignorant thing to do. As talented in alchemy as you are, you were fourteen - we thought something awful happened." Her voice was hushed and scolding but an undeniable maternal thread was woven into her voice.

Evelina silenced. "You thought I was dead?" Riza nodded solemnly.

The chance of finding a missing child in central dropped to about fifty percent overnight, and after that became almost nothing. With such a large crime rate, kidnapping was an unfortunately common sight. As was murder, assault, and human trafficking. Riza shuddered at the thought that any one of those happened, but relaxed with the notion that none had, miraculously. After two whole years of hearing nothing, everyone who even knew Evelina had lost any sort of hope to find her, but Roy never did.

Hughes told her how it was, being a father. How he would be the same in Roy's shoes. If it were his daughter, Elicia, he'd be relentless and would stop at nothing to find her, he'd never give up - in his words. However, Riza saw that fire usually blazing onwards in the Colonel's eyes and she saw embers, no roaring flames. When he told her that he trusted Evelina to keep her wits about her, Riza heard a desperate cling to hope.

He'd bonded to that child, In the seven years which he had reared her, they'd helped each other heal after the war. But if not for the child who had run, then for the child's father. Riza was never told specifics, she'd heard a rumour here and there but she had no place to rummage around the Colonel's business. However, she was aware of the bond between him and Brigadier General Lerwick. If she had to model it on someone, their relationship mostly resembled Edward and Alphonse Elric - pure trust in one another. Brothers.

Riza's honey lashes interlocked, webbed with teary dew. She inhaled while her hands fell from Evelina's broad shoulders to her biceps, and she half expected the girl to vanish before she could open her eyes. Was it wrong to love a child as her own, knowing that she had most likely had the blood of that child's family eternally staining her fingers? She felt almost twisted in a way that was incomprehensible to her - Riza had shot many children, many mothers and fathers. She had buried wide-eyed children with skin dark and bronzed by the sun, still holding baby-fat to their bones, and hair soft and pure as snow yet glistening with their own crimson blood.

She remembered how Evelina was, back at the very beginning. Quiet, almost silent. The look in her eyes was... worrying, dead. It was understandable though. Riza knew the horrors she had seen and she felt gluttonous guilt gnawing at her insides every time she met her. The small nine-year-old child hobbling about on crutches almost taller than the child herself, never to smile and held such a resentment to the Colonel that she only spoke in what was assumed to be ancient Ishvalan for months.

Riza saw pure, cold, hate in those deep red eyes. Now, upon opening her own with a moment of calming her own racing heart, she saw those same eyes staring back. Those eyes holding a flickering warmth from the candles around the room and caressed her small ruby eyes. She saw not cold apathy, but regret. There was no hate. Only affection, only love.

"After a year or so, you were assumed dead by most." Riza possibly took it the hardest, but work kept her busy enough to bury that burning hole. "Most began mourning." She began mourning. "And for many people, it will be like seeing your ghost." It was like seeing her ghost.

"Riza..." Evelina said slowly. When the woman's eyebrow cocked, Evelina exhaled a breath of contrition. "You're crying, Riza."

Shaken voice, she laughed quietly and tenaciously rubbed her hands against Evelina's rough upper arms, as if to prove to herself that this was not a concoction of her mourning mind at work. Her left hand moved slowly, peacefully Evelina's warm cheek, caressing it while her thumb wiped away the salty moisture from beneath her eye.

"So are you." She said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been posting for a while but I am back into the swing of Fullmetal Alchemist. Believe it or not but I have been writing and re-writing this story for almost two years now, and I am determined to finish it regardless of how many hits or reads it gets. Haha. Despite what I just said, I will really appreciate any sort of feedback to keep me improving and also to keep me motivated. After all - if you've made it this far in, I bet you'd want it to be worth it, eh? 
> 
> Comments over Kudos! Please let me know your thoughts!
> 
> -E


	8. The Day of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wholesome family content?

Sun bounced off of little floating particles like scattered diamonds in the air of central. Being summer as it was, pollen floated and the skies were humid and stuffy. It wasn't a great day to be cloaked in full, thick uniform.

So Riza had discarded of it moments after stepping out of the office, her blonde bob reaching just above her chin and sweet brown eyes glistening. She loved the warmth against her skin, just a peaceful temperature. Not hot enough to burn and sweat, not hot enough to remind her of bygone days spent in the desert lands.

No. Today was peaceful.

As she stepped out of the car, brushing down the black cuffed shirt and white trousers she wore, Riza took in a deep breath - enjoying the buzzing of small bees, the rusting of bushes and the way that that one bird sat chirping up in that old oak tree.

The school was this way, she was certain, and was proven right by the influx of mothers going to collect their young children. The older ones rushing past unescorted with their friends to raise hell.

Riza knew she was the odd one out here but she felt oddly... normal. Acting like this, like a mother. Little Evelyn was at an age that she remembered being herself, barely the height of her hips today and her mother standing patiently by the gates while masses of children pet their family dog Cheddar (a golden retriever and loyal pup).

Riza had long since decided that she liked 'blending in' with this crowd. Her life had always been filled with alchemy, war and the extraordinary. This was just ordinary and was very much so a break she came to yearn for.

This was selfish of her.

She knew that.

But when she sat down with Evelyn and listened to her ramble on about her teachers and friends, when she helped her with her spellings and read to her, and even when she, Lieutenant Mustang, and herself sat down to listen to the radio while Evelyn's bedtime bath was running - for the first time in her life, she felt it was somewhat normal.

Even if Roy wasn't her husband or partner. Even if Evelyn wasn't her blood child. She was written down as her second guardian and she was determined to give that little girl a second chance at a life she could have ripped away from her as easily as lighting a match.

"Riza!" Riza's lips curled softly as she kneeled down to greet the small girl running surprisingly fast on two crutches and one leg. The other children have long since gotten used to their classmate having only one leg, the other a bandaged stump. Although, they didn't see that as her school-dress was longer than her amputated limb.

The girl was sweating softly as her long white pigtails waved behind her, huffing and pulling herself forward on two white crutches. "Are you okay? Ready to go?"

Evelyn hummed and nodded, smiling fully. "What's for dinner?" She asked as Riza helped the girl into the car and clipped her seatbelt.

"Whatever the Lieutenant is cooking."

"Aw gross." Riza started the car.

"What homework do you have?"

"Just geography..." She murmured, unclipping the light brown leather bag in the footwell. She brought out two sheets of crumpled paper. "Stuff about tsunamis and stuff."

When they arrived at Roy's, Evelyn immediately rushed to the door, knocking in a strange musical pattern and yelling "We're home!" (Despite the fact that this was not really Riza's home.)

After a moment, the door unlocked and Roy emerged from a very dark doorway. Strange, Riza just noticed how the windows were blocked up by curtains and towels. Evelyn hadn't seemed to notice, however, as she energetically hopped past the threshold and whined as Roy ruffled her hair.

"Hey, kid." He spoke quietly, the left of his lip twitching. A grin was stifled as the girl proceeded onward. "Shoes!" He called out before she was able to tread the dirty souls through his cream carpeted hallway.

"Got it!" Riza heard from the hall. "Hey, Roy! Why is it so dark in here?"

Riza nodded to Roy in greeting and he in return smirked and gestured her inside. "So are you going to explain this?" She flicked her head to the dark rooms.

"Roy! Why are all the curtains closed-" Two loud bangs. Then there was a scream.

Ice took to Riza's veins. Not even a breath had left her before she was inside the living room (shoes be damned) and a gun cocked in her hands. "Hands up!" She demanded, focusing on the suddenly bright figures.

Their hands were up and they... ah. Right. Upon the walls were balloons and ribbons of red and pink. A hand-painted banner with intricate lettering spelt out "Happy Birthday". There was confetti falling from the air and in Maes' hand was a used party popper. In Gracia's, another.

"Riza! It's oka-" Roy skidded into the room wide-eyed and panting. "For the love of god, I didn't think you'd get trigger happy."

Slowly, with darkened cheeks, she put the gun away with a muted voice. "I apologise, I don't know what came over me."

But Garcia, she just smiled, her hand falling to Evelyn's shoulder as she moved out from behind the woman in green. "It's fine dear." Maes was beginning to breathe again, and let out a chuff while he fixed his silver-framed glasses.

"I feel bad for any future boyfriends of Evie's." Smiling lopsidedly, he moved to Riza's side and muttered "but we parents get like that, eh?" only loud enough that Riza and Roy could hear.

"Enough talk you lot," Gracia clapped her hands while ushering Evelyn to the table. Evelyn swatted some red, yellow, and blue confetti off the table before looking up to the mousy brown-haired woman. From the open plan kitchen, she grabbed a large sponge cake off of the counter and Maes promptly lit the ten uniform pink candles sticking out of the white powdered surface like little soldiers.

"Happy birthday to you~" The two of them started singing while Evelyn bounced in her seat out of pure excitement. The candles small glimmer shone like tiny twinkling stars in her eyes and from her lips left a small squeal.

"Happy birthday to you~" They sat the cake down in front of her. She was totally absorbed in the light of the cake that she had yet to notice Maes with his camera grinning, nor Roy leaning against the door jamb. His eyes almost shut. Brows relaxed and irises trained on the scene. In his hands, folded across his chest, was a wrapped present of gold wrapping paper and a silver bow. His lips displayed not a smirk, but a sincere smile - knowing that all attention was on Evelyn and that she was happy. There was nothing in this scene that was bad, no compromises, no background thoughts, no ifs or buts. She was just enjoying this.

"Happy birthday to Evie~" Just then, her eyes flicked up. Her cheeks puffy and round, lips digging into them while the right cheek dimpled. Over there, in the doorway was Roy. Alone. Just watching the nice moment play out. Riza stood close to Gracia, quietly humming. Maes was waiting for the perfect moment to take a picture. But Roy was...

"Happy birthday to you~!" It was her turn to blow out the candles, but instead, she pushed her chair back and reached for her crutches.

"What are you doing, Evelyn?" Riza called, quickly putting a hand out in case the child fell.

"I want..." She trailed off but her eyes reached Roy. Moving over to him, she took the cuff of his sleeve and pulled him. "I want you to be in the picture too."

With Evelyn sat in the wooden chair, Roy on the one next to it, she blew out the candles and everyone cheered.

"Here." Roy pushed the present in front of the girl with one hand. She took it from the table and gave it an inquisitive glance over. Unwrapped, it was an old book. Leather bound, the spine was breaking and the pages yellowed like old teeth. The girl, mouth ajar, ran a finger over the foreign lettering on the front, feeling the ridges of the indented words.

"This is... Ishvalan..."

"Mm, I was told it was an old children's tale. I thought you might have liked it - although I can't read it to you."

"No, I know this one!" She cried, mouth falling open more as she spread through the pages. "This is one of the old Monk's tales. My mother used to tell me this one all the time; 'ro _mihadan no'ii'i xja dan 'i nog ma asdanmajhu 'i la'i_.' The boy who reached out to touch the sun and stole the light!"

And suddenly, Roy found himself being crushed by two thick child arms. "Thank you so much! Thank you! Thank you!" Repeating it over and over, the girl continued to hug her pseudo parent with a grip that wasn't giving. But for once, he didn't really mind. He was never a touchy person but... he could deal with this.

He reached up and patted her head. "As long as you like it, Kid. I'm glad. It was a lot of effort to get." And a lot of money. Do you know how hard it is to buy some religious texts from Ishvalan survivors while trying to explain that you only want it for your sort of daughter who is also Ishvalan, and they recognise you as a butcher of their kind?

Yes. It was very difficult and very expensive.

"This is the best present ever." And then the camera went off. When the photo fell from the camera, Maes flapped it around for a few seconds and finally, a picture appeared. It was sepia-toned and too bright in some places, but it was Roy's favourite - even if he didn't show anyone it. Because, unlike Maes, he didn't feel the need to wave it in people's faces.

 

He... had something in his eye. Dust probably. Seeing Riza and Evelina hugging, it reminded him of back then. Maybe it was the amount of time he would spend staring at that picture every day after she ran away. Maybe it was the fact that she was smiling and crying at the same time, just like back then. Maybe-

The damned piece of dust! He rubbed a hand over his eyes - screw Maes and his knowing looks beside him. With a side eye to his best friend, Roy cleared his throat and stood. "Right." He walked over to the fridge and opened it, knowing that there was very little inside. "Who wants steak?"

And of course, he hears Evelina yip. "Your cooking? Gross!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today but I didn't feel that it would work all clumped together with the next few scenes.  
> Comments will always be appreciated! Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> -E


	9. The Day of The Siblings

When the sun rose that next morning, the air felt heavy with precipitation. It had rained and the skies felt new. All round, little splatters of crystal fallen from the heavens, everything coated in a thin layer of silver. In the night, leaves were pulled and flipped in the wind. But it wasn't violent, just a soft whisk of air. The Ishvalan teen pulled her thick coat hood up further across her face, embracing the warmth it brought, along with the security of a half-hidden face.

Umbrella in hand, Evelina trod through the streets of central with high-boots and baggy black trousers, a plaid red and black coat falling from her hips, collar reaching her chin. The air became so much more breathable compared to yesterday, and she enjoyed the crispness in her lungs. In downtown central, familiar faces continued to pop up against the crowd. She'd fixed that man's house. Oh, and Evelina remembered that couple's home too, they were a sweet, poor family of six children and a grandmother - all under the same roof.

The market was her favourite place. The hustle and bustle, the life, all the exotic items. It always held a strong scent of spice which only came around with the market. As always, the roads filled by stalls of blue and brown, people flocked and mimicked the current of the ocean as they tried to get by, bombarded by shoulders and bags. The constant musty smell of meats, fish and flora twined together only cemented the memory of this place further. Sky grey as always, clouds of bruising colours continued to threaten the lively scenery but past experience told Evelina that this party would stop for nothing - not even rain. A storm could roll by and the only markings of it would be muddy shoes and a strong scent of wet-dog.

At one stall was a rainbow of colour, vegetables and spices from Xing. The vibrant chillies tempted Evelina to buy a handful but she thought against it - feeling the small amount of change in her pocket. Another stall had been filled with fish while the owner of the stall cut and gutted the scaled pieces right there. He was a beefy man, scary with a huge butchers knife - but he carried a bear-like grin as he conversed with customers and beheaded their chosen catch. His name is Robert, but went by Rick, and is a very generous man despite his appearance. He has no tolerance for theft - but Evelina had once spied the man bringing the fish he couldn't sell in that day out to hungry beggars and starving children in the streets.

In her hands, a girl's doll. It had blonde hair and cerulean eyes, wearing a little lavender layered-dress and black high heels. Didn't little Amestrian girls like these sort of toys? She stood in thought for a while, pondering what to buy as a gift for the young Elicia Hughes, chewing on her tongue. Evelina wanted to make a good first impression on Elicia, knowing she wouldn't remember her.

The stall owner flicked his green eyes up at Evelina noticeably for the sixth time in these past few minutes. Honey-brown hair slicked back, he seemed wary of the youth browsing his stock. His face was rat shaped, long button nose and beady eyes, ears protruding out like the wing mirrors of a car. She the doll down in favour of a sandy teddy bear and shook it to him. "Do you think a three-year-old would like it?"

He shrugged and turned his attention back to the radio, flicking the knob between stations idly. "Just pick something already, would'ya?" Caught between the two toys, she rolled her eyes and took the doll again before purchasing it and moving on.

Or at least she tried to.

Her coat snagged on a nail - Felt it as it tugged back lightly when she tried to leave. Rolling her head back, she groaned exasperatedly. But then noticed two golden peepers peering up at her. The little golden irises belonged to a sunken but round face, a young girl who looked to be about seven years old. She was rather short but her face looked older than her height could tell.

"Ex-excuse me. Miss..." Carefully, the girl murmured, shoulders raised like small barriers to hide her head from the world.

"Hey, are you okay? Are you lost?" Now bowing to her height, Evelina dipped her head, trying to seem as harmless as possible. The girl was almost in tears, trembling slightly and drifting away from the crowds. It appeared as if she wished to scurry under the table to get away from them.

“I-I lost my big-big brother Al and now- I don't know where I am..." Atop the booming bodies, Evelina could only hear the girl as jumbled mumbles while her skeletal little fingers trembled by her lower lip. The girl recoiled as Evelina moved forward. She was way out of her comfort zone - how to calm her down was the question floating about.

"What's your name? Mine's Evelyn."

"A-Amara." Amara's bottom lip quivered as if a ghost had twanged it but she rubbed her eyes with balled fists.

"Amara." It sounded familiar... A nagging little spark in the back of her head struck away with the sass of a toddler being told 'no'. The way her face was round, irises a glittering gold and hair long and braided. This all reminded Evelina terribly of ... Edward. 'Well, she's ten, Amara... She likes to draw... She's amazing really, it's like she has a camera in her mind!' Of course!

"You're Edward Elric's little sister, aren't you?" Crouched low and a hand in the dirt, Evelina looked up into the girl's tear-filled face. She gave a mute nod accompanied by a questioning tilt of the head. "I met him yesterday, he told me about you and your brother. I'll help you find him. You can trust me, okay?"

Another nod and the tremors appeared to be receding.

Amara was the spitting image of her brother, although she had a ghastly complexion and was so thin - with a frame like that, Evelina was surprised her body didn't crumble. Her hair was feeble and lifeless - despite the shine of the sun against it - and her arms... The sallow skin couldn't hide the bones beneath it.

'it's a genetic thing and incurable so we're trying to find a way to make her better.'

"Where was the last time you saw your brother?"

"U-uhm, we were over in that area." She aimed out into a crowd to the north of Evelina. No air to breath between the sea of people, Evelina didn't want to pull the small girl into that. The choppy current would rip her apart if she hadn't already panicked herself to death.

"Amara," She stood slowly, trying to see over the crowd heads. "Your brother, what does he look like?"

"He-he wears a big suit of armour."

'Armour?' Evelina thought, cocking a brow while humming off. "Amara, are you afraid of heights?"

Amara shook her head, puzzlement in her demeanour. "Okay, good. Trust me for a second." Evelina stated while plucking out a piece of chalk from the back of her new leather boots. Acknowledging the familiar pattern which the snowy-haired woman drew swiftly onto the cobbled street, Amara breathed out of her nose abruptly.

It appeared as two circles closely drawn together. Then, within the first circle, a square. Inside the second smaller circle was another square, however it appeared as a diamond being drawn at a different angle than the first. There were a few foreign symbols to Amara which she didn't understand - yet recognised them from Ed and Al's transmutations.

Blue sparks escaped as soon as the woman placed both hands down flat onto the circumference of the chalk circle - but not before checking back with Amara, cheeks flashing a reassuring smile and a prompt comment; "Assuming your brother's here, there's no way he can miss this." Amara, feeling such a certain vibe felt calmer than before. This woman knew what she was doing. Everything would be fine. She could trust her...

"Mara!" There was a loud echoing cry originating from within the crowds. "Mara!" It cried again frantically.

Whispering small apologies, Alphonse tried his hardest to weave between people as his sister was still nowhere to be seen. "Oh no... Mara! Mar- Excuse me, sir, " The giant metal figure started, the shopper seeming more than agitated. "Have you seen a little girl? Blonde hair, golden eyes, about this tall?" He pulled his arm up to the mid of his right thigh. The man had simply shaken his head and uncomfortably tried to move away.

Alphonse asked another person, hollow eyes of red glow flicking from the left to right - praying to see that one familiar face. And again, he asked another - a woman. Then a man. Another man. A group of women. And then -

Flash. Lights flickered from a crowd near some of the eastern stalls. Alphonse would have gasped, if he could, seeing a cylinder of copper rock erect from the ground. Some people shrieked in shock, most looked up in awe at the mysterious figure standing above them.

The circular platform was only a few meters above ground, but it was still very high and Alphonse's attention was drawn to her, white hair flapping in the breeze. She was a tall woman, standing at about five foot ten - taller than Miss Riza. Against the blinding light of the sun, it was hard to make out colours, but he could just about tell that she was wearing a red plaid jacket. And clutching onto the jacket was Amara!

"I'm looking for a boy named Alphonse Elric!" Through coned hands, she called. "Your sister is looking for you!"

"Here!" Alphonse quickly replied, rushing over to the base of the cylinder, waving up. The unmissable sound of metal clunking caused the woman to look down and laugh.

"She wasn't lying when she said you wore armour then." Mid-sentence, she began rubbing out two symbols - one from the northern half and the other from the southern - and switched the two. The structure dissipated into the ground below and the younger sibling ran to the elder with skeletal, open arms.

"Amara-Anne Elric! Don't you ever wander off again! You hear me?" The armoured boy cried with his cracking adolescent voice. 'How can someone younger than me be so freakishly tall?' Evaline wondered with a crooked smile and wincing eyes over how forcefully the boy hugged the twiggy-girl. Poor Amara looked as though she could snap.

"I'm sorry, brother, " She clutched onto him tightly. "It was an accident. I got distracted and then you just... disappeared."

"Its okay now, " He picked her up and placed her onto his shoulders for extra precaution. "at least you're safe." To this, Amara hummed happily with the balls of her feet kicking up like a set of swings.

"Yes! Because of Miss Evelyn! She helped me, and she knows big brother Ed too!"

"Really?" His face craned to meet Evalina's (she had to take a step back and pivot her skull up) and heaved, realising that he hadn't thanked her yet - he soon reprimanded that profusely and lead her to believe that Alphonse had no idea of his own strength. Her wrist was aching.

"Hey, it was no problem." She sighed as the boy continued to thank her.

"I just took my eyes off her for a second, I swear! Please don't tell my brother this happened." His voice, although high pitched, told her that he was about thirteen, maybe older - fluidity and grammar of which he spoke couldn't have belonged to anyone older.

The visual in her mind of the Elric siblings lined up by height made her almost smirk. Alphonse was easily seven foot; Edward just less than five? Amara was about half a foot shorter than Edward, but didn't Edward say she was ten.

Maybe the Elric's had some sort of growth-stunting illness in their line.

"Geez, don't worry about it, it's cool." Placing a hand on (near enough) the armoured boy's shoulder, she laughed, noticing the indentations of past scratches and dents - as well as some very feint alchemy traces. "and besides, why are you so worried about your brother finding out? He strict or something?"

"He's more like a lioness-style maternal-instinct driven, over-protective brother." Middle finger thrust outwards, Amara chimed in, giggling like a pixie.

"Ah..." She had no words for that. "Ishvala be with you then, you'll need it."

"Wait a minute. What was your name again? Evelyn...?" He sounded as if he had realised something, and was just about winding the threads together. She ran a hand through her white front lock and sighed.

"Evelina Lerwick. And yes, before you ask, my father is the Richard Lerwick, from the civil war."

"That's where I've heard of you! Brother came home telling us about y- You're Colonel Mustang's god-daughter!" He bellowed in disbelief, almost star struck in a sense. She winced slightly, but shrugged it off internally and forced on a smirk.

"The one and only." Evelina sounded dull, but this conversation was less than new. She backpedalled and turned on the heel of her foot. "I have to be somewhere soon, but it was nice to meet you two." With a wave and a side glance, her long ponytail flicked high. "You're headed out to Reole tomorrow, right?"

"How'd you-"

"I'll see you then." And with that, she disappeared into the sea of flesh. Alphonse, unable to follow, let out an echoing sigh and his hands came to clink against his hips.

"What a strange girl."

"Brother~!" Amara tapped her rough fingernails against the skin of his helm. "We promised Miss Gracia that we would buy her some apples! C'mon! We're keeping her waiting."

"You liked her pie that much, huh?"

 

 


	10. The Day of the Traitor

In a room lined with cobalt, floored black, and windowless, Riza and Evelina stood shooting pistols at far-off targets. The crashing shocks of sounds from the gunfire were muffled by black ear-guards and the two were held behind a barrier of grey wood, reaching up to their middle. Which left them to shoot at the steel human-shaped targets at the far end of the long room.

Clink. The steel boards let out a high pitched echo as bullets were emptied into them, denting and scraping the painted metal surface and rebounding off onto the floor. Arms held out strongly, one hand cupping the underside of the pistol and the other wrapped around, squeezing the trigger, Evelina felt a slight sense of humiliation as none of her bullets had yet to even graze the metal while Riza's all hit dead centre. She reloaded the gun with another eight bullets and glanced back.

"I'm still not getting any better..." A slimy film of sweat had accumulated on her skin. This room was poorly ventilated and needed an air conditioner.

"You just need practice," Riza replied, letting loose another bullet. Her target, stationed at the very back of the room was much further away than Evalina's was. However, her aim was so perfect - It frustrated Evelina so.

"Practice," She clicked her tongue and proclaimed her distaste for this activity in one swing. "Glasses are what I need, Riza."

The woman in black set down the weapon and laid a hand on her hip. Her blonde brows had fallen and her lips a grim line. Even now, her hair was completely uniform, not a single hair out of line. Her clothes were not her usual attire, but a dark turtleneck with short sleeves and a long body along with a pair of grey work-trousers and shiny coffee-coloured shoes. Her face was forever immortal, unchanging in youth - however, Evelina had come to note how her eyes had become more deep-set than the last time she saw her years ago.

"Don't spend this whole time complaining, frankly I'm growing tired of it," Snippily, she said. "Do you think that I learned to do this (Riza jabbed a hand out to the heartless target) in a night? No. I've been doing this for almost eight years now, all I ask of you is to spend a few hours learning to even hold a gun correctly so that if you need to use it, it will not be the first time that you have."

Evelina said nothing, unsure where to look other than the eyes of her guardian. Was it guilt she felt? Wordless, she nodded and turned back to her shooting, this time more firmly and with a jaw clenched.

 

The prisons were never Roy's favourite place. Never. But then, they would surely be no sane man's favourite - save for Solf Kimberly, perhaps, but he was a different story altogether. So when Roy got the letter stating that Richard Lerwick's death day had been decided, he felt sick to his stomach, knowing that he couldn't leave his friend to rot without one last word.

The first thing that Roy hated about the prisons was how cold they were. He felt as if his fingers were tingling from the cold just five minutes after entering the tall, lifeless establishment. The second was how everyone had a look in their eye that spelt wanton aggression. Third of all, the convict's always stared. Always. And some of the time, he recognised the dreary, furious, or outright insane, faces behind bars - all lined up for the gunmen or gallows.

The floors were concrete and gritty beneath his feet. The walls, all the same, repeated pattern of brick and plaster, painted white or the occasional smokey ash colour. He felt as if he were walking through the same few corridors endlessly. It was dizzying but the guards escorting him seemed to hold no quarrels with it. Scurrying around in the darkness, prisoners jostled to catch a glimpse of the visitor. Visitors were rare in this prison for only the worst of the worst were kept here. Some were serial rapists. Others, murderers. Those people over there in chains? They were terrorists - blew up half of the east city command centre some few years ago.

Roy had long since passed the smaller men. Now he had entered into the big-league's domain. These two men, not a person who passed through Amestris could deny knowing their names soaked in blood. The Crimson Alchemist, Solf. J. Kimberly. A man with milk-white skin and deathly eyes, sharp like blades and all seeing. His hair had grown long and untamed, veiling his face. The one thing Roy knew that he would never forget about Kimberly was how despite everything, wanton murder and insatiable bloodlust - His eyes never held the same look as Roy's during the war, nor any other solder. He never gained the eyes of a killer. However, Roy now came to understand that Kimberly never gained them because he always had the look of a murderer.

They'd been walking for what felt like an eternity by the time he had finally come to a stop. Multiple galaxies had been born and died within the timeframe Roy took to mutely suck in a breath and brace himself, for the first time in seven long years, to lock eyes with the Faux Alchemist; Richard Lerwick. Both guards took up stations outside of the steel doorway, long guns strapped to their sides and back rigid as a block of ice. The door, unlocked by the first guard, painfully creaked open as every single minute pitter became bold shouts in the ears of the Colonel.

The light in the room was a urine colour, the smell of salt and perspiration fogged the room like a skunk's spray. There were no windows on the walls, just one lighting-styled split in the plaster. Bare as a desert, the room felt inhospitable and uncomfortably humid. Roy sweat under his collar.

"Lerwick," The guard called out venomously, glaring down at the lump of flesh seated in the corner of the room. "Colonel Roy Mustang to see you." The lump did not move, but the slight tensing of his shoulder blades let the guard know he had heard him. "Fucking piece of shit." He muttered.

Then, Roy was alone under the flickering lightbulb hanging like a noose up above. The door was slammed shut and the clanking of multiple locks could be heard throughout the small and isolated room. He didn't know what to make of the thing before him. Was that even Richard Lerwick sitting there? The man who he once called brother? The very man who got him out of uneducated thievery and into alchemy? He'd admit it, Richard was once a role model to Roy, almost a father figure when he was twelve. Back when he barely spent an hour at school a week and had decided for himself a life of robbery and violence because he couldn't do anything better... Richard saved him. Roy tried to steal from him - that's how they met.

Richard knew Roy as Chris Mustang's foster son/nephew, it may well have been the only reason he chose not to hand the young boy over to the police (or he was just too soft-hearted). Richard owed Chris already, and Roy saw empathy in the man's grey-green eyes as he looked down upon the aggressive young lad who stole to get anywhere in life. That next week, Richard showed up at Chris' bar with a determined tone and a few 'beginners' books to get Roy started. When Richard had finished his business in central some months later, he and to return to his expecting wife and young son in the eastern desert. Roy feared that it was the end, that he'd go no further with his alchemy, but on the contrary - Richard had referred him to a good friend of his to further Roy's alchemic education; Bertholdt Hawkeye.

Everything from then on is general knowledge. But if it weren't for Richard... Who knew, maybe Roy would be the one behind bars.

The gaunt man hunched over was not Richard as Roy Mustang knew him. He was a misshapen figure of khaki rubber skin and dark rags thrown over the top. Arms crossed overhead, he sat with his skull between his knees, facing away. His arms were nonexistent past the elbow, he looked like a flightless bird. Scarred up to the middle of his biceps, his skin appeared more like shredded leather than what you would find on a human. 'This is the cost of human transmutation.' Roy told himself. Though, like the Elrics, Roy held no disdain towards this taboo. Seeing your child with a bullet wound between his still-open eyes would be a haunting sight for any parent, surely. Not even Hughes could deny that if given the chance, he'd do the same thing for Elicia in a heartbeat, knowing the costs.

"Roy..." A shrivelled voice called, parched and drawing. "It's been a while." Like a baby doe learning how to walk on its first legs, the thing turned and stood wobbly. The man's spine was hunched, face bruised and hollow. His eyes were deep-set and dulled. The way he moved reminded Roy of a little puppet connected to an amateur's strings. Beneath the black vest scarcely covering his top half, his ribs were prominent, collarbone apparent like a pole wrapped in a stretchy fabric. "Why have you come...?" It asked, finding a seat among the many empty spaces on the splintered wooden bench.

Roy hadn't the words to say on his tongue, so he remained silent with a pained grimace. "Come now..." The thing breathed out, wheezing into his fist. "You haven't visited once, not since I was shoved in here... you must have a reason now..."

"I've come," He started with eyes semi-closed, trying to avoid contact with the buggy whites of the man sat below him. Why was this so difficult? "I've come to make peace, I cannot continue on in a fantasy that the Richard Lerwick I once named my brother died seven years ago."

"You've come to... see the truth." Roy could tell that Richard was seriously ill, he could barely rasp out the breath to speak. Just as he thought about it, Richard began hacking into the crook of his elbow. "I apologise... I'm not in the best of health, clearly. The time I tried to revive Bethuel... I lost more than just my arms... It took..."

"Save your breath, I understand." This was met with a curious silence. "You've heard of the Fullmetal Alchemist I presume?"

"Oh yes. Down here...the boy is said to be a genius."

"He is, " Roy justly held a bit of pride in his underling. "He also committed the taboo, at the age of eleven along with his brother, and their younger sister got involved in it too. She had some internal organs taken as you have, but she..." She's dying. And perhaps Roy misspoke his thoughts, or Richard had just assumed by the solemn dip in his voice but the ragged man let out a growl and stooped his head.

"Those poor souls..." His voice had shrunk to that of a breathy whisper. "To see all that... And to lose... So much." He shook his head in defeat.

"I assume you'll want to hear about your daughter then?" Roy asked, not yet comfortable enough to sit beside the gangling man with hair seasoned with strands as white as his daughter's own. Richard was suddenly still and his eyes snapped open. Once staring at the ground for more than a moment, now gazing up at Roy like two pebbles of coals dropped into a blanket of snow. He was silent for a moment still, but a smile threatened his lips, fluttering the muscles and ripping his lips apart.

"My Rashmi," His croaking words haltered, there was a glazed shine in his eyes that Roy had never recalled before. "She is truly alive and well? She was there in Xing?" He shot questions at Roy, barely waiting for an answer to the one before, nor a breath between them - Roy managed to grasp his turn once Richard had almost doubled over with pain in the chest and wheezing like the air was thick with smoke.

A curt nod was all Roy gave before Richard had quite literally fallen to the floor, grovelling. "You have no idea how much these words mean to me... my girl is alive. She's alive." And then the glazed shine became tears in his eyes as he laughed. "And she's a grown woman now, sixteen." He sounded incredulous as if the thought of his daughter grown was ungraspable. The man had last seen his daughter when she was no more than four years old, and on that fated day where he left for the war, he had forever destroyed any bond they had ever shared. It still escapes Roy that when he and Richard sat by the fire that one night in the bloody desert, he hadn't seen his little girl in over five years. Something twanged in Roy's chest.

"She goes by Evelina nowadays. Smart girl too - knows what she wants in life." The smile on Richard's face never faltered until Roy spoke his next few words - "She became an alchemist, quite gifted. She's becoming a state alchemist." - and then that smile deformed into a slack, open-jawed face of horror.  Even Roy felt a stammering blockage in his throat as he choked out the words like they were the foulest tasting things on earth.

"No," Richard pleaded. "No, she mustn't. She cannot!" His voice had climbed and he clawed up from his sunken form, mutilated arms scraping at the bench to lever himself up.  "Roy, how could you let her? Why would she want to become one? It is because of state alchemists like us that she lost her mother, her brother, her home - " He choked on air, pounding a wing at his bony chest. "... It's because of us that Ishvalan kind is almost extinct." He paused for a moment to breathe, pulling in air through his mouth and shoving it back out through his nose. His eyelids drooped for a moment before opening once more and grey-green met shady-black irises. "So why," He rasped. "Why would she want to become one or us, a cult of racist butchers?"

And Roy truly had one answer for that; "I don't know."

 

_'12/6/1910_

_Kii  jhazru hi Jhaxihi Hehino. Hi jha zrugha que i'i. Hi' nei'izru i'i Ki jha hijha i'i jha Ki, hi jha hijha shii'izru. Hi jha quephe i'i jha ghekha. Hi hi KK i'i ghekha hivhakha, jhavhahe jha zruhihe ne khe ghene zrui'i ba quejha khe jha quehephe. KK kae quehehe jhane no ba hi i'i khe noaht. Hi vhajhazru nejhaphe jhahihe' nequehe vhajha, khe'ne jha ba hihigha hixijhahi i'i i'i nozru zru jhavhaque hezru hi. Jhakhe Ki ba i'i bahezruvhaphe. Hi nezru i'i zrui'i hi jha jha, ne nejha, hi Hixijha jha nejha nejha, khe vha jhazru vhai'izru khe jha - hikha? Hi no' hi i'i i'ihe jha i'i quei'i zru hi zrui'ishi i'i, zruxi higha hi hi i'i i'i - hizru jha phe hihi i'i phei'i. Hi hi i'i que i'ine jhavha Jhakhe, ghezru no hi quehe zru._

_-Rashmi’_

 

(My name is Rashmi Lerwick. I am eleven years old. I'm supposed to keep a diary for a week, its a class project. I am learning lots at school. I miss my old school though, Master was meaner but he truly believed in what he was teaching. My new teachers are only in it for the money. A lot of Amestrians are like this, I think. I started reading father's research journals, they're all in ancient Ishvalan so no one else around here can. Alchemy seems kind of interesting. I used to believe it was bad, but really, if Ishvala was really real, they would have stopped the war - right? I don't want to follow a god who lets its people die, because then it is no god - like a king with no kingdom. I want to learn more about Alchemy, maybe Roy will teach me.

 

-Rashmi)'

 

_'13/2/1910_

_No no' quehe zru. Jha quevha quegha khe hi jha i'i Hi hi nezru hi hishejh._

_-Rashmi.’_

 

(Roy won't teach me. At least when he is at work I can use his library.

 

-Rashmi)'


	11. The Day of The Drawing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [10/11/18]   
> Not a new chapter! Sorry! Just been re-organising chapters and ended up with a whole extra chapter.  
> Thanks for your understanding. 
> 
> \- E

It was night by the time the eldest Elric had come home - and by home, she meant the home of the Hughes' family. Edward was spent, flopped down onto the lime sofa in the living room and let out a loud yawn. Amara was sat by the fireplace, colouring with a throw blanket drawn loosely over her shoulders. It was a stuffy night with the room around her black, seeping into blue and then light yellow right were she sat.

Most little girls were asleep at this time, with the moon guarding their dreams and stars illuminating the darkness. But not Amara Anne Elric. Amara hated night. She hated the dark. Almost as much as she hated a blank piece of paper. And so, when the night began to creep it's way around, she found an insatiable urge to fight against it, to light up the dark. As long as she was quiet enough not to wake little Elicia, Mr Hughes did not mind.

That's how Edward found her, surrounded by six coloured candles with the girth of his wrist and varying lengths, melting into saucers. She sat silently, scratching away at her sketchbook with the concentration of a swordsman and the pencil in her hand - a blade. She was sketching a slightly surreal image, and as Edward's interest piqued, she failed to notice the boy sneaking a preview of her art.

His mother didn't lie - he thought to himself with one brow cocked, both hands resting upon his hips. She never lied when she told young Amara that she was an excellent artist. Edward couldn't explain how good she was in reality. Even cameras weren't as defined as Amara's sketches. They were better than picture-perfect. But Amara adored realism. She never drew surreal, she never pretended or created a scene, she only drew what she saw in real life. So Edward found it odd to see his little sister drawing what seemed to be a shadow, but the shadow had eyes and teeth.

The scene was that of a stall, perhaps the market Alphonse took her to earlier in the say. The clear drapery of fabric from the stall's cover had caused a jagged shadow to form and somehow, it climbed. It clung to the fabric and weaved it's way horizontally through the winding fabrics like a snake. The spearhead of the shadow was pointed, a triangular mouth growing within it, and above it, a familiar red eye.

Truthfully, the eye was reminiscent of the one from the gate of truth. He remembered it still with a chill and bristled neck hairs. Was it his imagination that made the image writhe and wriggle like at the gate?The picture seemed to be a culmination of Amara's dreams and reality.

Edward had come very close as he peered over the Amara's shoulder, casting a shadow and wondering if the girl would realise he was there. She did, and in doing so she quickly covered the pages with her hands. "Brother, you're back." She said with a forced smile and wincing eyes.

"I can see that. What're you drawing, Mara?" He crouched, pressing down on his knees with his flat palms.

"Nothing." She said far too quickly, trying to close the book while fumbling with it behind her back. "It's nothing." She tried again, sitting on the book with fingers clutching the edges tight. Edward didn't smile. He just stood there with a strange look, like he could see straight through Amara, and could read her thoughts. She felt her stomach drop while he stared with that dead look - but then she found herself laughing with a hoarse cry and the wind knocked from her chest.

"Stop!" She kicked at him as he tickled her mercilessly, yanking her onto his lap and laughing.

"Liar," He told her through laughs as he tried to keep ticking through the wormy wrestles. "What're you drawing?"

"N-nothing!" He tickled harder.

"Alright. I-I give u- up!" And he let her go. "It's just a shadow I saw at the market. I think it was a cat, but it really looked like a shadow, and I thought maybe it was looking at me so I walked towards it but it ran away."

"It must have been something you saw in a dream." He realised that he had spoken his thoughts aloud and stuttered to correct himself but Amara swiftly agreed with a firm nod. Her hair, ratty and messed, showed that she'd recently been asleep. The way that her eyes looked sunken told him that it was a bad sleep also. Amara was now sitting in Edward's lap, resting the back of her head against his chest. His heart was beating rhythmically, gently and she felt her eyes drawing closed.

"Brother," She moaned through a yawn. He hummed and looked down at her, feeling the warmth of the fireplace mixed with the light of the candles in a symphony of pinks and white. She, wrapped in a light green throw blanket (Hughes' blanket), peered up at him and smiled. "I look forward to going to Reole. I'm gonna draw some neat stuff there, I bet!"

Edward's face hardened in worry as the girl's voice piqued and her chest heaved suddenly, sending her into a coughing fit. A small amount of blood dribbled from the corners of her lips but she quickly mushed it away with the blanket. Edward couldn't look away from the dark splotches dampening the fabric. He only hugged her tight, and pressed his forehead against her skull.

"Yeah, you're gonna draw some great stuff. You always do." He muttered.

"Maybe one day my drawings will be in a gallery." Her irises twinkled as she dazed, turning on her knees to face her brother. She took a hand in her own and gripped it tight. "I'm going to be a famous artist!" She declared, but Edward could only focus on how small her hands were on his.

He could hear Roy jokingly say how she was like him, small, but this was infuriatingly ridiculous. Her hands weren't even half the size of his. The joints of her fingers were knobbly. Her veins protruded from the backs of her hands and he could reach his whole hand around the circumference of her wrist.

"And then I'll make lots of money and buy a big house! Big enough for you and brother Al to live with me!" She threw her arms up in the air looking like a scarecrow, and then promptly looked to her brother with a closed-eyed grin. He couldn't hold back a smile as he tousled a hand through her hair.

"Yeah."

"But don't bring any girls back there! You have to go someplace else for that!" She jutted out a finger, stabbing him in the chest and all he could do was choke on air.

"What?"

Amara pouted, fists on her knees. "You heard me. I don't want any smelly babies around my mansion!" And then she laughed. He laughed too.

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
